The Return
by CSIGeekFan
Summary: Spoiler: 8x07 My take on it. Summary: Her Return says it all. Please R&R. I've changed the rating to M, as the subject matter has become more mature.
1. Her Return

Spoilers: 8x07

Background: It's fairly well known that Jorja Fox is going to be leaving for a bit, but according to the show's ruler, she'll be back. (My personal theory is that she leaves for San Francisco to deal with her demons, and will return sometime later - like in January or February.)

A/N: Please R&R – let me know if I should continue it or not.

UPDATE: I made some modifications to Chapter 1, so I can transition to the next chapters.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. CSI is owned by people more important than me.

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**The Return**

Gil Grissom stopped pacing again to check the terminal entrance to baggage claim. He checked his watch, and resumed his pacing. Her flight from San Francisco had already landed.

_Where is she?_

"Grissom," Greg said, "Her flight just touched down. Give her a minute to get off the plane."

Sighing, Gil resumed his pacing.

Greg and Nick just looked at each other and grinned. They'd both hoped they could be here to welcome Sara home, but they'd figured there wouldn't be much chance of that. They weren't sure if it was a wish being granted or just a tad scary that their boss had been so nervous he was incapable of driving himself. When he'd asked Nick to drive him, his hands had been trembling, he couldn't seem to stop anxiously shifting from foot to foot, and he hadn't even argued when Greg volunteered to go with them.

All Gil could think about was the changes he'd noticed in Sara. When she'd called, Sara had seemed just a bit softer… just a bit more relaxed. His Sara had also seemed so much more content. And the anticipation of just seeing her again was going to outright _kill_ him if she didn't get _off the damn plane NOW_.

"Hey Griss," Nick hollered, and nodded toward where people came pouring out of the terminal.

It took Gil less than five seconds to locate her. And when his eyes connected with Sara's they became rooted, unable to move. All they could do was look and see what had been missing from them on her hiatus.

"You might wanna go get her, Grissom," Greg laughed, "Or she may never move."

Pulled from his reverie, he glanced down and when he looked at her again, a huge smile had taken over, and for the first time in awhile, he could really breathe.

Both of them moved forward, slowly, being passed by other airline passengers right and left. Neither wanted to hurry the moment. They wanted to savor the reunion. Her return.

Stopping only inches from each other, Sara barely managed a whispered, "I've missed you," before Gil had pulled her tight to him and covered her mouth with his, nothing more than lips pressed to lips.

Running her hand into his hair, she held him to her, never wanting the moment to end.

He broke the kiss and ran a hand over her cheek, drying the silent tears that had gathered there.

He hadn't intended to say, "Don't leave me again," but there it stood between them.

"Gil," Sara replied softly, "I don't think I could."

Sara pulled back for a moment and nervously smiled. "I think I've been afraid..."

"Of what?"

"That maybe I'd blown it. That maybe _I_ was too late," Sara explained. "I never meant to hurt you, but I know I did."

"Sara, I think I understand better than most what it means to need a break," Gil responded.

He smiled, and pulled Sara to him once again. This time, when his lips met hers, he gave in to his cravings, and explored. He felt her gasp when the kiss deepened and his tongue slipped inside, and she sighed when his tongue gently caressed her bottom lip. Neither felt the need to stop – neither wanted to stop the heat or the raw need of it. And they may not have, had it not been for the applause.

They pulled apart to find Nick and Greg clapping, along with half the passengers in baggage claim.

Blushing profusely, Sara smiled shyly, and turned to watch Nick and Greg saunter over.

"Welcome home," Nick laughed, "I think I'll just give you a hug. I wouldn't want to get beaten up."

"Hah," Greg laughed, "You're just afraid you can't compete with the boss."

Gil just rolled his eyes, and once hugs were done, put his arm around Sara's waist.

"How many bags, dear?"

"I shipped everything home, so there's no luggage," Sara replied.

"Just take me home, Gil. I need you," Sara whispered into his ear.

Greg and Nick led the way to the car, and gratefully dropped off Gil and Sara. They both agreed it was a little disconcerting and amazingly embarrassing to see their friend and their boss make-out for the half hour drive.

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Sara woke to Gil quietly snoring and took the chance to really look at him. His hair was tussled and his cheeks slightly flushed. She always loved seeing that half-smile on his face when he slept. There was so much she'd missed while away, but knew that she'd never be able to regret the steps she'd taken.

"Hey there," Gil grinned, slowly opening his eyes. "Been watching long?"

"Not long enough," she murmured, and leaned down, kissing him gently.

Gil sat up, propped himself on the pillow, and motioned for Sara to snuggle down into him.

"You know you want to ask," Sara said, "It's okay."

Sighing, Gil tightened his hold on her.

"Did you find what you needed?"

"Almost," Sara replied. "Let's get up and I'll tell you about it."

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After they showered and dressed, Sara led Gil to the livingroom and plopped down on the couch.

Gil followed her, pulling her back into him.

"Okay," Gil started, "you said 'Almost' earlier."

"Yeah," Sara softly replied.

"When I left, I knew I had to leave alone. I had to face my own past and my own fears. In the end, I needed to know I could do it alone." Looking up at him, she continued, "If you had come with me, you would have tried to protect me, and I would have let you. I would have allowed you to prop me up, when I needed to stand on my own."

Sara paused before continuing, "I needed to see that the scary monsters of my childhood couldn't hurt me anymore."

She closed her eyes when she suddenly said, "I was afraid you'd never forgive me."

Gil pulled Sara closer to him and whispered, "I understood. I wasn't happy, and I was hurt. But I understood – and it made me understand what you must've felt, as well, when I went on sabbatical."

The couple just sat there for a time, holding on and relishing the quiet moment.

"There's one more thing to be done," Sara finally said, "and you are part of it."

Sara stood up, for the first time nervous, and started to mentally prepare her arguments. Meanwhile, Gil waited, knowing she'd eventually speak, and not wanting to rush her.

"My past had to be dealt with one-on-one. I needed to do that, because it was a part of me, and me alone. But what happened in the desert wasn't just about me. It was about you. It was about us," Sara said.

Stopping in front of Gil, she offered him her hand and said, "I need you with me, and I need us to see her. I need her to see us."

Gil had given a lot of thought over the months since her abduction about what he would say if she made this request. He could understand her need, but he worried about her. Until now, he had worried about her seeing Natalie Davis alone or surrounded by a hundred bodyguards.

But when he looked into her eyes, he saw a resolve and strength that hadn't been there before – that only served to amplify the Sara he'd always known.

"Okay," Gil replied, "I'll set it up."

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Three days later, Gil and Sara stood outside the doors to the mental ward where Natalie resided, waiting to be let in by the guards.


	2. Bricks

A/N – Please R&R

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The Return – Bricks

Gil Grissom made the calls necessary to setup a visitation with Natalie Davis. He didn't want it to happen right away, though. After all the time Sara was gone, Gil felt the need to have her to himself. He needed time with her – just to be with her. Gil just wanted to hold onto her to satisfy himself that she was truly back with him.

Sara sat reading a forensics journal on the couch, when Gil sat down next to her. He lifted her hand to his lips, and whispered a kiss across her palm, making her heart stutter.

"You have no idea how happy I am you're home," he said.

Sara leaned over, and pressed her lips to his, gently nibbling on the lips she'd missed while gone. He pulled her onto his lap, and let her explore, caressing her cheek with his hand.

Smiling, he pulled back, running his other hand across her back.

"I'm happy to be home, too," Sara breathed.

On his lap, she leaned into his embrace.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gil asked.

"I think I need to," she replied.

"I don't know where to start," Sara replied.

"Honey, just start at the beginning."

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Tomales Bay

When Sara had arrived, she'd been cold and broken. Her resolve to find her life again had given way to her fear of shadows and dark.

_God, what am I doing?_ She asked herself as she made her way up the hotel staircase. _Why did I leave him behind?_

Sara let herself into the hotel room, dropped her bag by the door, and flopped onto the bed, exhausted. She squeezed her eyes, trying to ride them of the heavy fatigue, but found instead tears pooling.

That night she wept.

The next morning, waking late with the sun, and feeling groggy, Sara pulled out a pen and pad. She thought of Gil, pulled on the strength of her feelings, and started her list. Each item she wrote needed resolution. Each item was a brick in the wall that kept her from escaping her past.


	3. First Brick

A/N – Please R&R. I hope you like it.

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VEGAS

Gil and Sara sat on the couch, watching the Science channel – bugs were crawling across the screen.

"Her name was Rose," Sara said, pulling his attention from the television. "Rose Elliot."

"She was the social worker who held onto me so tight – the woman whose name I hadn't been able to remember," Sara continued.

Gil smiled encouragingly and asked, "Did you get to talk to her?"

"Yes," Sara replied. "It wasn't easy finding her, though. Besides the fact that she's retired, DCS has policies against providing case information."

Sara sighed and leaned back into the cushions. She smiled when she said, "She's a beautiful woman. I think it was her smiled that led me away from that place. And her hands. Her hand was just the right size."

She looked at Gil when she said, "Let me tell you about it."

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TOMALES BAY

Sara was frustrated. She'd been three times to DCS to request the same information, talked to three different people, and she was getting nowhere.

"Look," Sara sighed, "I just want to know the name of the woman who took me out of my home."

"I'm sorry," the receptionist replied, "but we can't give out that kind of information!"

This conversation continued along the same vein for several minutes, the volume of it increasing, until nearly everyone in the waiting are was staring wide-eyed at the two of them. Both had turned red in anger, and neither was willing to back down.

"Hey!" a middle-aged woman in a business suit yelled, coming out from an office behind the receptionist.

"What is going on here!" she demanded.

Sara ran her hand through her hair and cringed when the receptionist pointed and said, "She's becoming belligerent!"

Sara sighed, recognizing the truth to the woman's statement, and prepared herself to be escorted from the building.

_Damn it,_ she thought to herself, _why hadn't I just looked up the records before I left Vegas?_

The woman in the business suit was watching the emotions wash across Sara's face. Turning to the receptionist she said, "I'll handle this Annie."

"I'm Mary," she said, "Why don't you come into my office?"

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VEGAS

"She took me into her office," Sara murmured, "and I told her my story."

Sara rose from the couch and retrieved a bottle of water from the kitchen. Returning, she sat on the recliner and took a cool drink.

"Gil, I told her _everything_. I told her about my parents. I told her growing up in foster care. I told her about Natalie."

Sara paused, looking at Gil, and continued, "I told her about everything that has happened to me – good or bad."

"How did she react?" he asked.

"Compassionately," Sara whispered.

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TOMALES BAY

Tears streamed down Sara's face when she finished telling her story to Mary, who sat in a chair facing her.

"I'm caught between two worlds – the one I left behind here and the one I'm trying to build," Sara said.

Mary leaned forward and grasped Sara's hand, feeling Sara's grip tighten as the younger woman began to sob. And when the sobs turned to whimpers and the whimpers to harsh breath, she finally said, "Honey, I think I understand."

Mary waited until Sara had calmed before going to her computer and tapping some keys. Within moments, she picked up the phone and dialed.

While Mary spoke on the phone, Sara tuned out the conversation. She was so tired. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she felt limp.

Sara's attention returned to Mary, when the woman said, "Thank you. I'll let her know," and hung up.

"Here is the address," Mary offered, handing Sara a slip of paper. "And her name is Rose Elliott."

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VEGAS

"Rose lives in San Francisco now," Sara said. "I didn't hesitate once I had the address. I just drove."

"Describe her to me, honey," Gil prompted, leaning forward, and turning off the now-distracting television.

"She's sixty eight, with lovely brown hair she laughingly calls 'Beautiful Bottle Brown'," laughed Sara. "She has this round face, slightly pump, and deep laugh lines around her mouth and eyes."

"And she has these hands," Sara continued, looking down at her own, "They're covered in calluses, but at the same time soft. When she holds your hand in hers, she puts just the right pressure on your palm."

"I put my hand in hers," Sara murmured, "and for just a moment I was there in the dark."

Gil knelt down next to Sara and put his hand on her knee. He tried to think of what he could say to comfort her, but his mind was blank.

"It's all right," Sara whispered to him, as she ran her fingertips across his brow. "In going back, I was given a chance – a chance to see her for a moment as the child, but then to adjust into who I am now."

Gil asked, "How do you see her now?"

Sara smiled, tilted her head, and smiled.

"She's a truly lovely woman."


	4. Second Brick

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VEGAS

Sara and Gil quietly made lunch side-by-side. The routine seemed second nature, based on two years of habit. He would prepare the lettuce, while she chopped the vegetables. It was all so… normal.

"She talked to me about that night," Sara said.

"Rose?"

"Yes," she responded. "I asked her to tell me about it."

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SAN FRANCISCO

"It was the middle of the night," Rose said. "It always seemed to be the middle of the night when we got the worst ones."

Rose sighed and poured them each another glass of iced tea.

She continued, "To tell you the truth, I don't know a lot about what happened in your house. But I know that you were covered in bruises and limping."

Sara sat back before speaking, trying to organize her thoughts.

"I remember pieces. Flashes. I vaguely recall the hospital. What I really remember is this young cop," Sara said. "He threw up on the crime scene."

Rose smiled at Sara and said, "It was his first murder scene, and it hit him hard… he was ashamed of how he'd reacted."

Sara shook her head and said, "I wish I could remember his name. I'd hoped to talk to him about what he remembered."

She wasn't expecting Rose to smile at her or respond with, "Oh, that's easy enough. His name is Mark Elliott. He's my son."

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VEGAS

"I spent a few hours with Rose," Sara told Gil as they finished their salads. "When I left, she told me where I could find her son and promised she'd call him to let him know I was on my way."

"Is he still a police officer?" Gil asked.

"Yes. He transferred into the San Francisco Police Department's homicide unit five years ago," Sara replied.

"It's too bad he hadn't transferred while I was still there," Sara said regrettably. "It might have forced me to deal with this a long time ago, if I'd had to work cases with him."

"No regrets, Sara," Gil stated emphatically, "or you will always be asking 'What if?'."

Gil stood, picked up their plates, and put them in the sink. Sara walked up behind him, laid her cheek on his shoulder, and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Is it your day off?" she asked.

"I've taken a few days off to be with you," he softly replied, and turned into her arms, hugging her close.

"Let's go for a walk," she suggested.

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SAN FRANCISCO

Sara parked in the SFPD Visitor's lot. Taking a deep breath, she pushed on – through the front door and to the information desk.

"Can I help you?" a young officer asked.

"Yes," she replied, "I'd like to speak to Mark Elliott – he's expecting me."

The officer made a note, and picked up the phone. When Mark strolled into the lobby, Sara didn't see the middle-aged man he was. In place of his gray suit, she saw the new blue uniform. Instead of gray around his temples, she saw shiny cropped brown hair. She sucked in a breath as he approached.

"Sara Sidle?" he asked.

"Yes," she breathed out.

He smiled, and she saw the similarities between mother and son. The laugh lines were there – the same as Rose.

Sara extended her hand, and he shook it – holding onto it for an extra moment.

"I appreciate you meeting with me," Sara said.

"I'm happy to do so," he replied. "Would you like to go get some coffee? Mom said you have some questions."

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VEGAS

Stopping in a small community park, Gil and Sara sat on a nearby bench, holding hands quietly.

"He told me what remembered," Sara said.

"It was a long time ago," Gil remarked. "Did he remember much?"

"Actually," she replied, "he remembered a lot of scene details. Someone had called in a domestic dispute – probably a neighbor. Mark and his partner were dispatched. His partner had been a cop for several years. Mark had only been on the streets for a matter of weeks."

"It must have been rough for him," Gil sympathized.

He continued, "You've seen young cops on their first DB. I've even see veteran cops lose it at bad scenes."

"Yeah," she replied, "and most remember their first."

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SAN FRANCISCO

"I checked your credentials," Mark said as the waitress delivered their coffee.

After taking a sip, he continued, "You've got an impressive background. According to Conrad Ecklie, you've got one of the highest solve rates in the lab."

Mark noticed when Sara flinched at Ecklie's name, and said, "He also said you can be a self-destructive wild card."

Sara leaned back in her chair and considered her response. She eventually decided there was really only one honest reply.

"He's right," she said. When Mark looked like he was about to speak, she held her hand up.

"Please, Mark, let me say this… I've lived through nightmares – some of my own and many belonging to others. Every time that old anger started burning, I got really good at pitting myself against everyone. I would either lash out or withdraw from the people who cared about me. And it's made my world small, sad, and lonely."

Sara paused for a moment, took a sip of coffee, and continued, "I've spent the last couple of years trying to move beyond this. But I never addressed the core of it. I never looked back, because when I look back I'm still that scared little girl."

She continued, "In Vegas, I've made… friends, but then I was kidnapped, buried under a car, and ended up wandering the desert until I nearly died. And in the end, it all came back to my anger. It came back to holding everyone at arm's length."

On a deep sigh, Sara said, "I guess you could say Ecklie's right. I can be self-destructive."

"Will knowing all of this help?" Mark asked.

Sara exhaled slowly before saying, "I think if I don't know everything, I'm never going to move forward. I may end up sliding back. I need to see the whole picture before I'll be able to let it go."

Mark took a drink of his coffee and watched Sara for several long minutes. She nervously tapped her finger on the table, knowing he was making a decision. Diverting her tapping hand, she lifted her cup, and took a sip, willing her tense shoulders to relax. She waited, though, praying for patience.

"Your mother answered the door," Mark said quietly. "As soon as we saw all the blood on her, we pushed our way in."

"I was hiding in my closet," Sara whispered.

Watching her eyes darken – nearly black, Mark grabbed onto Sara's hand.

"He's in my room," she whimpered.

Mark grasped her hand tight, seeing in those eyes the horror of a child. In a soothing voice, he said, "Yes, Sara. He was there. He died in that room."

He squeezed her hand – hard – when he said, "Over twenty years ago he was in your room. Sara, he's not in your room anymore."

Sara lifted her eyes to his, searched, recognized, and watched the dark closet in which she sat transform back into the coffee shop.

"Yes, it was over twenty years ago," she said.

Tears welled in her eyes, she sniffed, and heaved out a breath.

"And some days – in flashes like that – it was last night."

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VEGAS

"Would you like an ice cream, dear?" Gil asked, hoping to divert her from the memory if only for a moment.

He grinned when he laughed, "I hear the ice cream truck!"

Laughing, Sara grabbed Gil by the hand and raced with him toward the tinkling music. They ran across the park, giggling like kids.

The playground was empty, so they sat on the swings, gently rocking and licking ice cream.

"My memories of that night have always been so fuzzy – it's hard to feel… complete… when so many pieces are missing," Sara explained.

Taking a lick of her ice cream, she continued, "Mark told me what he remembered – the clinical aspects of the crime scene. He described the spatter pattern on my pink wall and the knife in his chest. But what he remembered most was what I was wearing, what my mother was wearing, and that I wouldn't come out of the closet. He remembered trying to talk me out, but I wouldn't or couldn't move."

"I never really talked to the homicide detective," Sara said, "and to tell you the truth, he's not really a part of the flashes or my past. But the young cop – he has always been a vivid part of it."

Sara shook her head, "There's so much I still don't remember. My years of training and experience have helped me fill in some gaps, but not all."

Ice cream finished, Sara stood from the swing, grasped Gil's hand, and pulled him to her. For several minutes, she simply held – absorbed his heat.

He ran his hand through her hair, felt her shiver, and pulled her tighter and deeper into his embrace.

"Let's go home, honey," he suggested. "It's getting chilly."

Sara smiled up at Gil when she said, "And on the way, let me tell you about the copy of the case file Mark gave me."


	5. Third Brick

A/N – Please R&R. I like to hear feedback. Also, it may be a few days before it gets updated again. I gotta get the kids ready for their halloween parties and trick-or-treating. :)

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VEGAS

Sara held Gil's hand as they walked towards home.

"You said Mark gave you a copy of the police file?" he asked.

"Yeah," she replied, "he gave it to me before we left the coffee shop."

"I must have stayed up all night reading it. It contained pictures of the crime scene, the evidence log, hospital reports and interview notes," Sara explained.

Gil squeezed her hand gently, and put his arm around her shoulder before saying, "It must have been difficult to look at the pictures."

They continued walking, in pace with one another, and in a contemplative silence. Gil gently rubbed her arm with his hand, relishing the way she leaned ever so slightly into him as they walked.

"I wasn't sure if I could look at them," Sara eventually replied, "but once I got past the flashes they gave me, it was okay. I was able to detach and just see the scene like any other. But it took a toll, and for awhile, I had my doubts about whether or not I would ever be able to move on with my life."

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TOMALES BAY

Back in her hotel room, Sara sat Indian-style on her hotel bed, with the case file spread in front of her. The last thing to lay out was the photographs, and she'd been avoiding them for the last ten minutes, instead just staring at the folder and not even bothering to read the documents on the bedspread.

_It's got to be done,_ she thought to herself, followed quickly by, _God, I don't want to do this!_

With shaking hands and closed eyes, Sara reached into the folder and pulled out a stack of ten photographs. When she opened her eyes, she quickly glanced at the top photograph… and rapidly threw the whole stack across the room.

Breathing hard, holding her stomach, Sara lurched towards the bathroom, dry heaving along the way, and collapsed on the floor – cold and shaking uncontrollably. Sobs wrenched the air and the bright yellow room went dark. She convulsed back into _that_ room, seeing the body on the floor near her bedroom door, coated in blood, skin ripped open, flesh torn and ragged.

His eyes stared to the side, looking right into her. Her father's dead eyes seemed to see right into the closet where she hid – piercing her until the child in her whimpered, afraid and alone. Sara laid in the dark until her sobs turned to weeping, and the cold tile floor of the lit bathroom slowly took the place of the deep dark closet. This was not a new flashback. It was the one that haunted her nightmares, often making her wake screaming.

Slowly, she came back into herself, aware of the vomit running from her mouth across the tile. Every limb felt boneless and weak, as she slowly sat up, leveraging herself on the toilet seat. Reaching up with a trembling hand, she grabbed the washcloth off the sink basin and wiped the vomit across the floor in a half-attempt to clean it up. When she tried to stand, she found no energy, and crawled slowly on hands and knees out of the bathroom.

Her breath ragged, Sara pulled herself up onto her bed and with a final desperate lunge pushed over onto her back.

The tremors slowed, as the muscles began to ache. Every part of her hurt – from her muscles to her heart. And once again she wondered what insane part of her thought it was necessary to do this alone.

Time passed slowly, and Sara eventually calmed. Her energy slowly returned, and she stood up from the bed, tired.

_I have to do this,_ she thought, and walked over to where the photographs lay spread on the ground.

Gathering them by touch and not sight, she returned to the bed. She tried to look at them several times, failed, and tried again. Over and over she attempted to force her glance down to no avail.

_I don't want to do this,_ she said to herself, followed closely by, _Stop being a wimp_.

Forcing herself to bend her head and open her eyes, once again she peered down at the photograph. _It_ still lay on top. Her breath hitched, and she exhaled slowly, forcing herself to view it again.

_Breathe slow, Sara, _she thought as she closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them again. _See it like any other case_.

Sara ran her fingers over the edges of the photo, slowly circling down until her index finger slowly and lightly traced the outline of the body. She squinted at it a little as she counted up the stab wounds – 18 in total – and made note of the rips running through the shirt. She held the photograph closer to the lamp as she looked at the torn and open wounds, so obviously made by a large knife.

Pulling out her pad and pen, she started making notes of the crime scene.

Pink bedroom walls

Blood spatter on wall next to door – gap in spatter pattern – someone got hit with the blood

Victim laid out on his back – from blood spatter and position doesn't appear to have been moved

Head rolled to one side, looking towards closet

……..

Sara spent hours writing up note after note regarding the scene, until every visible detail was catalogued from that single photo.

_I'll look at the rest tomorrow_, she said to herself before gathering the file back together, placing it on the table across the room, and falling asleep, exhausted.

In place of her regular terrors, she dreamed of Gil.

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VEGAS

"It was strange," Sara said to Gil as he unlocked the front door, "but it seems like after viewing the pictures as only a crime scene, I stopped flashing on the moment my closet door opened."

She shuddered when she said, "That one's been the worst…"

"Did you look through the rest?" Gil asked as he drew her into their home.

"Yes, but they didn't cause me to flash on anything from that night."

Walking into their living room, Gil plunked down on the couch, drew Sara down onto his lap, and ran his hand into her hair.

"Are you trying to district me by chance?" Sara laughed.

"Oh, absolutely," Gil responded with a grin.

"Is it working?" he asked before pulling her face down to his. Any response was cut off by his lips meeting hers. He slowly deepened the kiss, until he felt her muscles slacken and she went limp in his arms. When he ended the kiss, she sighed with a grin.

"Oh, yeah… it's working," she sighed.

"I could stay like this for a thousand lifetimes," he whispered, "but I have a feeling you need to finish this part of your story."

Sara didn't move from her position, but rather rested her fingers on his chest, slowly running them in circles.

"You're right… I want to finish this part."

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TOMALES BAY

For the first time since her arrival, Sara woke refreshed, and with a feeling of… hope.

She showered, dressed, and ordered room service before sitting down with her case file. Flipping open the folder, she pulled out the pictures again, and was surprised when she didn't have any reaction to the still of her father's lifeless body.

After room service brought her tray, Sara sat down and ate while going through each picture. Occasionally she started to get drawn in… she found herself getting emotional or shaky… but was able to pull herself back and look at each clinically. There were several photos of her father's body laying lifeless, a couple of a butcher knife, some of her mother, and one of herself.

_When was this taken?_ Sara asked herself. _It looks like the hospital, but I don't remember anyone taking my picture_.

She stood from her chair, surprised to find just how much time had passed. It was nearly ten o'clock, and she'd been going through the pictures for two hours. Sara bent back, stretching, picked up the tray, and laid it outside. Deciding she didn't want to be interrupted, she hung out the "Do Not Disturb" sign, and returned to her desk.

Pulling out the interview sheets, Sara sat down to read through the various accounts – police, witnesses, and even her mother's and her own statements. While she didn't remember giving an account of that night, it didn't surprise her that her own words were in interview notes. She'd worked with kids before, drawing out information. And the information on the interview notes was no different than from cases she'd worked. She read through the notes from the police, the neighbor who had called emergency services, and her own notes. Her mother's notes were extremely short, as she did nothing but go catatonic after the police showed up, mumbling nonsense under her breath until she'd been taken away.

The evidence log contained a detailed account of everything collected at the scene. Items ranging from a butcher knife, noted as the likely murder weapon, to fibers of hair found on her bedspread were listed. It took five full pages, front and back, to list all the evidence they'd collected that night.

So far, everything looked rather… normal… to the trained CSI. This was all information she herself had collected at crime scenes.

Finally, Sara pulled out the hospital records, expecting to find the admittance and perhaps diagnostics forms for the mental hospital where her mother was sent. She was surprised when she discovered they were her own.

As Sara rifled through the papers, she came across a form that described her broken leg at the age of seven. The break was described clinically, but in the notes someone had written _'Looks like someone just snapped it in two for her'_. Unfortunately, Sara remembered this particular 'accident'.

Her eyes darkened, she was transported back.

Running through the house made her a bad girl. Bad girls got punished. Sara got punished. He promised her later he hadn't meant to hurt her, but she needed to be a better girl. He even got her a dog to make her feel better. But then he got mad at the dog for barking when he hit her again, so he got rid of the dog.

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VEGAS

"God, Sara. I'm sorry, honey," Gil said, stroking her hair.

"Have I told you I love our dog?" Sara asked in a whisper, and smiled.

He smiled, ran his hand across her cheek, and said, "Me too."

"By the end, I was seeing the file from a very clinical point of view in terms of the events. But it sometimes doesn't stop the emotion from overriding rationality," she sighed.

"Honey, it wouldn't surprise me if you still have nightmares and flashbacks – it's going to take time for you to really heal," Gil said, lifting her face so he could look into her eyes.

"I'll be here for you," he whispered, kissing her tenderly on the cheek.

They rested together on the couch, watching their dog slowly saunter across the room, pick up a squeaky toy, and saunter back out, madly chewing the toy. Sara cringed at the thought of her own childhood pet, but laughed at the antics of their boxer. Clear on the other side of the house, they could still hear 'SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEEEEAAKK'.

After a bit, Sara lifted her head and stretched her shoulder muscles.

"I'm starving," she said. "Do you want to go out to dinner or eat here?"

"Going out sounds good to me," he replied.

"On the way, I'll tell you about my first foster home."


	6. Fourth Brick

A/N – Please R&R. This chapter's a bit on the short side. I've been a bit busy getting the kiddies ready for Halloween, so I haven't had much time.

This one is set only in Vegas.

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VEGAS

"Where exactly are we going to dinner?" Sara asked, as she noted Gil heading south out of Vegas, already passing the city limits sign.

"It's a surprise," he replied with a grin. "You'll love it, though."

"You said you were going to tell me about your first foster home," he prompted.

Sara sat back in her seat, casually gnawed on her lip in contemplation.

She shifted to face him a bit more, and said, "It's strange. It doesn't matter how bad things are… the hitting, the yelling, the screams, the hospitals… it's scary being taken away from what you know."

Gil glanced over and noted the contemplative look on her face before asking, "But wouldn't you feel less… afraid… if you didn't have to worry about all that?"

"Actually," Sara replied, "it was the opposite for me. I didn't know these people. I had no way of knowing if they were worse than what I knew. It was terrifying having to sleep in a room I didn't know. The sounds were different. The smells were different. Everything was different."

"You know," she said, "a surrounding – a place – provides comfort regardless of whether or not it's good or bad if it's all you know. There are secrets that can be kept from the outside world, but when you know all the secrets inside your home, you know what to expect."

"That sounds positively… frightening," Gil interjected.

"Not really," Sara responded, "Think of it like this. If he was drinking, I knew to stay out of his way – to stay in my room. If he was drunk and yelling, I knew I was safe under my bed. If I heard a punch or a slap, I would hide someplace like a cupboard or a closet with a book."

"But going to this new home was… so very frightening," Sara whispered. "They picked me up at two in the morning. I was alone and out of my environment, with strangers. They already had a couple of kids living with them – long term placements – yet I was still alone."

"I didn't know what would set my foster parents off. And the kids scared me more – I could take getting hit by people bigger than me, but I didn't know what to make of the other kids," she said.

She paused before continuing, "I found out that morning that the most hurtful thing of all was the whispers of those other girls."

"How did they know?" he asked.

"It doesn't matter how quietly an adult talks – kids hear everything. They knew by morning that I was the girl whose mom was a killer," she sighed.

Gil reached over and grasped her hand in his, lightly squeezing.

"I think the whispers were the primary reason I didn't want to tell anyone about our relationship," Sara said, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. "As long as no one knew, I didn't have to feel the whispers on my back."

She paused before continuing, "I know it may not make sense, but our relationship was untouched as long as it was just you and me."

He squeezed her hand again, before saying, "I understood, honey. It never bothered me."

The couple drove along in comfortable silence before Sara said, "I don't really have any vivid memories of the home itself, or really even the parents. The kids I vaguely remember… the only thing I really remember in detail is sitting in the hospital waiting room for someone to come get me, and someone asking question after question."

"Why were you at the hospital?" Gil asked.

"The bruises had been noted, but they were worried about my leg. When I'd walked out, I was limping and covered in over a dozen visible bruises," she calmly explained, "and they needed to make sure there was nothing seriously wrong."

Gil's mind was reeling.

_How can she be so matter-of-fact about bruises and limping_, he wondered. _What kind of life did she have?_

He couldn't imagine the strength and resolve it must have taken to simply survive day-to-day.

"You amaze me," he whispered.

Sara shyly smiled at him, pushing her hair behind her ear, feeling just a little giddy.

They drove for awhile longer, and Sara noticed they were now more than ten miles out of town.

"Honey," she asked, "Are you sure you know where we're going?"

Gil laughed, "We'll be there soon."

Smiling, Sara flipped on some soft music, and began to lightly hum. When she realized Gil was watching, she became self-conscious and quickly stopped.

"Don't stop," he pleaded, "I love listening to you."

"I was always… discouraged… from singing when I was growing up," Sara sighed, "and eventually it became habit to hesitate singing."

Shyly she asked, "Do you really think I sound okay?"

"No… beautiful is how I would describe it," he replied.

Lifting her head up and looking forward, out towards the desert into which they drove, Sara smiled and with confidence said, "I like to sing and hum. So I'm going to sing and hum."

Gil looked over in time to see the beginning of her laugh.

"And we are here," he said as he pulled the car into the long driveway, with the restaurant set a hundred yards off the road. "They have these beautiful tables out under the stars."

Gil rounded the car and opened her door, and reached out for her. Smiling, she held onto his hand and was pulled into his embrace, swaying into him.

"Enough for today," Sara whispered, her lips close to his ear, "the night is for us."

Gathering her close, they walked into the restaurant.


	7. Fifth Brick

A/N – While you think of our foster system, think of these things: In most states, foster kids cannot: stay at friends houses, go to parties not supervised by an authorized agency, get a drivers license, and many many many other things. Most states can't afford the liability issues.

Please R&R

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VEGAS

Water poured down the gully, covering her face. Gasping and coughing, she lifted her head, gulping air, the edge of panic overcoming her. She couldn't open her eyes, and her arms were pinned to her side, making it impossible to free herself from the increasing torrent of water.

With a sudden bursting scream, Sara bolted up in bed, breathing hard, bare skin dripping sweat, and shaking uncontrollably.

Gil reached for her, trying to pull her to him only to be shoved at, as she tried to crawl away.

"Sara," Gil shouted, "Sara, wake up!"

Slowly coming fully awake from the edge of the bed, Sara laid on her side and curled into herself, freezing cold. It wasn't until Gil moved over and curled himself around her that the tears broke free.

"When will they stop," she sobbed, turning herself into him – seeking heat.

Holding her tightly, he replied, "I wish I could tell you… God, you're soaked in sweat, honey." Gil pulled the blanket and comforter up over her shoulders, immersing her in a cocoon of warmth.

They clung together until the shaking subsided to tremors, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

With a watery smile, she said, "I may not be having flashbacks while I'm wide awake anymore, but I can't seem to shake the nightmares."

Gil placed his lips on her forehead, and replied, "It's going to take time." He knew it was nothing more than a platitude, but it was all he could think of. And he hated it, because there wasn't anything he could do.

"I wish you could promise me that," Sara sighed, "but you have no control over this."

Sinking down into the blankets, she closed her eyes and held on.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" he asked, and then waited.

Just when he'd decided she was either asleep or not up to sharing, Sara whispered, "I was under the car. There was so much water just pouring in over my head. I was so sure I was going to drown. I could feel my heart just thundering."

Opening her eyes, she looked up at him and said, "I've always had nightmares – really bad ones. Most of the time, I've been able to force myself to relax and go back to sleep after a bit. This nightmare… I can't seem to breathe right for hours after. I feel like I have to count my breaths or I'll die, even if I'm wide awake."

"You were having them before you left?" he wondered aloud, and she nodded in response.

"Will it help if we get up for awhile?" Gil asked.

"It might," she responded, "but I need to take a shower."

While Sara showered, Gil threw on some pajamas and his robe and brewed some coffee. It was ready by the time Sara emerged, showered and looking more refreshed.

He led them into the living room, carrying their cups, and sat down on the couch.

"Gil, I'm not sure drinking coffee at two in the morning is such a great idea," Sara warily said when he handed her a cup.

They sat there in peaceful silence, not really needing words, just company. Lost in thought, he didn't hear her when she said his name.

Sara nudged Gil's foot with her own to gain his attention and asked, "Do you want to hear the next part of my time away?"

"Yeah," he replied, "I think I would."

"Then I think I'd better start by saying that relationships are… interesting in foster care," Sara began. "Having siblings takes on a whole new meaning."

"How so?" Gil queried.

"You go into a new home – you don't know anyone, but suddenly you have a mom and dad, and sometimes you have brothers and sisters," she explained. "You grab onto those defined connections like lifelines because at least it defines your role in the house."

Sara paused in thought before continuing, "The younger kids sometimes really take on the title of their role. I had a lot of little brothers and sisters who used their role as their name. I had one little brother that liked to just hang out with me, and would only call me Sister. He would say things like, 'Come on Sister – let's play a game' or 'Sister, I can't reach that, can you help me?' It was a title to him. I was Sister."

Sighing, she leaned back into the cushions of the couch and tilted her head back. In her mind, she brought back the face of the little boy she'd adored, but hadn't been able to keep. And she realized that on some level she would always miss him.

Gil pulled her legs onto his lap and slowly began to massage her feet.

Sara moaned with pleasure, "That feels so good."

Minutes ticked by as he rubbed her feet, slowly watching the tension drain first from her feet, and then her shoulders. He rubbed until she looked loose and relaxed.

"Thanks," she said, "that was great."

Smiling, Gil took a sip of his coffee. He's seen the sheen of sadness in her eyes. He wanted more than anything for her to not have to talk about all of this, but he'd figured out from the start that there was a need – to purge it all through words.

With a soft sigh, Sara said, "I wish I could remember his name."

"Do you remember many of your families?" Gil asked.

"I remember a few families distinctly, but most of them I can only remember vaguely," she replied. "I lived in a _lot_ of different foster homes, and I've always had trouble remembering the names even of the good homes."

She sat up, stretched, and sipped her coffee before saying, "I must have had dozens of brothers and sisters, but I really only remember my two brothers in detail. And I really only remember the name of one of them."

"You mean Mike? You told me you found drugs under his bed," he provided in way of explanation.

"Yes… Mike is a brother I remember, because at one point he was my best friend – until I ruined it," she replied sadly.

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TOMALES BAY

Sara had felt buried under a cloud of guilt since she was a kid. Turning Mike's drugs over to her 'mom' had destroyed something precious, and only reinforced the feeling she wasn't worth knowing.

It was this guilt that made Sara seek him out.

She drove past the foster home five times before she got up the courage to park and walk to the front door.

As she pushed the doorbell, she thought to herself, _This is just stupid – they probably don't live here anymore_.

As she was about to leave, a familiar woman in her sixties opened the door with a smile.

Stuttering, Sara said, "Uh… um… hi."

"Can I help you?" the woman asked with a puzzled look.

"Yeah," Sara replied. "I lived here for awhile a long time ago," then muttered, "You probably don't remember."

Stepping back as her nerves fled, Sara said, "Never mind. I shouldn't have bothered you… I'm sorry."

"Wait!" the woman called as Sara turned to leave.

Sara stopped to face the woman and said, "I remember the address, this house, but you were my mom for longer than most and I can't remember your name. Right now I feel really stupid."

The woman walked to Sara, laid a hand on her cheek and said, "It's okay if you don't remember my name. You remember me, and I hope it's with some small amount of fondness."

Gripping Sara's hand, the woman continued, "My name is Julie and you're Sara. You lived with us for nearly a year."

Pulling Sara along in her wake, Julie walked them into the house and into the family room.

"Sit, Sara – I'll get us something to drink," Julie ordered.

Walking to the bay window, Sara looked around the room. She could see little changes here and there. But in general it all looked so familiar. She took a seat on the bench under the bay window and inhaled deeply.

_I remember the smell,_ she thought.

Stopping just inside the door from the kitchen, Julie watched Sara. Julie's lips curled into a smile as she said, "That was always your favorite place – you curled up with a book there and read almost every day." She laughed when she continued, "I don't know how many times I had to wake you up at night to tell you to go to bed."

Sara smiled in memory and said, "I remember you and your husband were always so… nice to me. And I'm so sorry, but I don't remember his name, either."

Handing Sara a glass, Julie sat on the cushioned bench next to her. "His name is Rob, and he's currently at the hardware store, so odds are I won't see him for hours!"

That was another pleasant memory for Sara… Julie's free laugh and how it always felt so warm.

Sara and Julie sat on the bench, and Sara started pointing out things in the room she remembered. She talked about the small porcelain bell on the shelf, the spoon collection on the wall, and other items.

Julie patiently sat and listened as Sara rambled on, and when the younger woman had wound down a bit, she asked, "Why are you here after all this time, Sara?"

Unexpectedly, Sara's eyes began to burn, and she looked down to avoid Julie's gaze.

"I need to find Mike," she quietly said.

Looking into Julie's eyes, she continued, "I need to know he's okay."

Gathering Sara into a hug, Julie sighed, "Oh honey… Mike's just fine." She pulled back to look into the younger woman's eyes before continuing, "We see him every month when he comes to dinner."

Surprised, Sara asked, "Really?"

"Yes," Julie smiled, then added, "But it looks like you need to talk to him. He gets home around five thirty. How about I give you his address, and you and I can go get a bite and catch up while you wait," Julie offered.

"That would be great," Sara responded, surprised by how true those words felt.

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VEGAS

"You went to lunch then?" Gil asked.

"Yes, and we talked… for hours," Sara said. "It was interesting looking at the home from the perspective of an adult."

Gil pulled her over to him, and she laid her head on his chest.

"When I was a kid, that was one of the good ones. Julie was an amazing mom, and Rob was an amazing dad." She paused before continuing, "I'm not saying we didn't ever get loud or anything… sometimes they even yelled. But in the end, they would always take care of us, and under it all, I knew they cared."

"It must have hurt to leave there," Gil murmured, placing a kiss in her hair.

"It really did," Sara confirmed, "but I'm so happy I went back… and I may go back again from time to time, because they're worth it."

When Sara yawned, Gil suggested, "Why don't you tell me about Mike later. I want to take you to bed."

"That sound positively… decadent," she replied, and kissed him.


	8. Sixth Brick

Please R&R

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VEGAS

Waking at six, Sara rolled over and snuggled into Gil. His arm wrapped tightly around her as he whispered, "Morning, sunshine" into her ear.

Stretching languidly, Sara surveyed the damage to the room – noting the clothes everywhere, the sheets half off the bed, and no sign of the blankets. Across the room, the dog lay in the corner by the dresser – the one spot he could find not covered.

Sighing, Gil sat up and said, "I suppose it's time to start the day."

"I'm going to take a quick shower," Sara said, and walked to the bathroom.

While she got ready for the day, Gil started the pancake batter and prepared the pans. He'd just finished the first round of pancakes when Sara sauntered into the kitchen.

"I'll take over," she informed him. "Go take a shower."

Over breakfast they talked about a great number of things – a new piece of equipment that Sara had read about in a forensic journal, the dog, painting the walls in the living room, the weather… until Sara finally said, "It's okay to talk about the lab, honey…"

Gil softly replied, "I didn't know how you would feel about it. We haven't talked about the work since you got home."

Smiling, she responded, "I'm fine with talking about the lab. I just haven't decided if it's a place I can go back to. I'm trying to work that out still."

She then prompted, "Tell me about an interesting case. I really _do_ miss the puzzle of it – the figuring out of what _really_ happened."

So while they ate, Gil told her about a bizarre case involving strange shoelaces and pepperoni pizza.

After breakfast, Sara asked, "Want to walk the dog with me?"

They grabbed the leash and set out on their favorite walk to the community park.

As they walked, Gil asked, "So… do you want to tell me about Mike?"

"Yeah," Sara said, smiling, "and he turned out to be a surprise."

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SAN FRANCISCO

The drive back to San Francisco from the Tomales Bay was tense, leaving Sara's nerves on edge. Sara knew the area of town in which Mike lived – a nice middle-class neighborhood the last time she'd seen it.

Pulling in front of his house, she clenched her hands on the steering wheel, turning her knuckles white. After several deep breaths, she opened the car door resolutely and stepped out.

_I can do this… I can do this…I can do this…_ she repeated over and over until she stood on her brother's doorstep.

As her hand reached out to ring the doorbell, the door swung open and there he stood. He was bigger than she remembered, and his hair was neatly trimmed – which it never was when they were kids together. Minutes ticked by as they just stared at one another – taking stock of the changes.

Finally, Mike reached out, and yanked Sara into a tight embrace, tears coming to his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he sobbed repeatedly into her hair. He repeatedly kept rasping, "I'm so sorry," into her ear until his breathing calmed and he could pull his head back to look at her.

Realizing they were standing on his doorstep, he grasped her hand, led her inside, and shut the door, where he pulled her to him again.

"Mike?" Sara asked.

"Shhhh…" he said, "just let me look at you, sis."

Shaking, he ran his hand through his brown hair, and said, "I've been waiting for you to get here since Julie called." Pulling her into a hug again, he whispered, "I've missed you, kid."

Mike led her into his living room, where he sat on the couch then patted the cushion next to him – prompting Sara to sit with him.

Sara laid a trembling hand on his face, outlining the familiar features that had evolved from teenage boy to man. She ran a finger across his brow, laughed, and reached up to ruffle his hair.

"I've miss you too, Mike," she said, tears pooling and spilling over, leaving tracks down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," he said, searching her eyes. "You'll never know how sorry I am."

"I shouldn't have given the bag to Julie, but I honestly didn't know what it was," Sara explained. On a sob, she continued, "And the next thing I knew you were gone, and I never heard from you again."

With pleading eyes, she nearly begged, "Please tell me I didn't mess everything up with you. You were my brother. My best friend. Please tell me I didn't ruin it all."

"Oh God, Sara," Mike gasped. "How could you ever think that?"

"You disappeared," she whispered, "and you said you hated me."

Mike stood up and began to pace back and forth across the room.

"I was mad," he finally said, kneeling down in front of Sara.

On a single breath, Mike rambled, "I always had a temper, and it got the better of me… I was so mad at you and mad at me and mad at my dead family and mad at the world, and on some level I knew you'd love me anyway, so I took it out on you."

When she looked into his eyes, she saw the anguish when he said, "I took it too far."

He paused for a moment, searching her eyes, knowing he needed to explain. He _owed_ her that, and more.

"The drugs you found were mine. I would have used them, and I would have ended up in the same place my parents did – the graveyard."

Sitting back on the couch next to Sara, Mike continued, "I hadn't used them yet – not even once – but I was on that path. I was unhappy… no… miserable. I hadn't used them yet, but I was going to that night. In the end, I think what you did probably saved my life. And I repaid you by doing the unforgivable."

"Where did you go, Mike?" she asked, trying to avoid where he was taking the conversation.

"I went to a juvenile rehab facility for over six months, where they focus on destructive behavior for kids like me," he replied, "and when I got back, I found out you'd been moved so you could go to a special school."

"I never got to say how sorry I was for what I did to you," Mike said, the anguish obvious to anyone looking in his eyes. "The words were horrible… what I did… I don't expect forgiveness."

Realizing Mike was never going to let the topic go, Sara simply replied, "It's okay."

"I should never have hit you, Sara," he whispered, continuing, "and the look on your face when I did will always haunt me… you had just been waiting for someone to hit you – I could see it in your eyes. There was no shock – just acceptance."

"Mike, it was all I'd ever known… for the first twelve years of my life, all I knew what hitting, yelling, and screaming," Sara said on a sigh. "I'd only been with Julie and Rob for eight months when you left. You can't erase twelve years of expectations in eight months."

"And Mike," she continued, "you were just a couple years older than me… no more than a messed up kid with a messed up past yourself."

"I've lived with that expression on your face – that look that said, _Of course it's no different_. I couldn't live with myself after that," he choked, then sobbed, "I'm so sorry… just so damn sorry."

Sara laid her hand on his bent head and ran her hand through his hair. She'd spent so many years thinking she'd destroyed something so important. It hadn't occurred to her that he would have similar feelings. She'd felt this burden for so long… so had he.

"Mike," she said, placing her hand under his chin, lifting his head, "It's going to be okay."

Trying to divert his attention she asked, "Can we order a pizza? And maybe talk?"

With tears in his eyes, Mike laughed, "Sure… what would you like on it?"

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VEGAS

Gil and Sara arrived in the community park and sat on the same park bench as the day before. He held her hand and watched the soft breeze run through the tendrils of her hair. And he listened.

"We ate pizza on the floor of his living room and talked… and talked and talked," Sara told Gil. "He told me about his life – about the facility he'd lived in, the other foster homes, how he'd tried to find me… everything."

She continued, "I told him about the other foster homes and the group home I moved into when I was sixteen."

Smiling, Sara told him how her brother had just said, "Of course," when she'd told him about her full-ride scholarship to Harvard.

Gil watched as waves of emotion passed over her face with every word he spoke. He listened to the expression in her voice. Somewhere in her telling, a sense of calm came over her face, and Gil sat in awe of this woman.

"You are so amazing," he whispered, running his free hand across her cheeks, tracing the flush of happiness he saw there.

The grin on her face spread wider before leaning forward, placing her lips lightly to his she said, "I love you."

"I honestly don't know how you got through it all," he said, his lips still whispering against hers.

"Having a couple of good foster homes helped. When I still had him, so did Mike," she responded, leaning her head against his chest.

"I think you should meet him," she said. "I can guarantee you'll like him."

"Why do you say that?" Gil curiously asked.

"Let me tell you…"

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SAN FRANCISCO

"Oh man, I'm stuffed!" Mike exclaimed, yet still plucked one more piece of vegetarian pizza out of the box.

"Okay, boy… spill," Sara ordered. "I've told you about Harvard and Berkley. Tell me what happened to you. I know you had trouble with school… I distinctly remember that you hated school."

"Actually," he replied, "I hated school because I felt so stupid all the time. I was always so far behind from moving around for so many years. At the facility, I wasn't just taking drug and alcohol awareness classes – I was in intensive schooling the entire time. By the time I left there, I'd caught up with the grade behind me."

"By the end of my senior year, I was a solid 'B' student," Mike said with a grin.

"You still haven't told me what you do for a living, though," Sara pointed out.

"Don't laugh, but I teach high school biology and environmental science," he said with a grin. "I love working with these kids, and I've got a job where I get to go on field trips."

Chuckling, Sara laid back on the floor and stared at the ceiling, until Mike asked, "You haven't told me what _you_ do for a living, Sara."

Quietly, she replied, "I think I'm a crime scene investigator."

"You _think_ you're a crime scene investigator?"

"I don't know anymore," she responded, and continued, "I'm not sure of much of anything anymore."

When the tears threatened, Sara sat up and hugged her knees to her chest, the memories of Natalie surfacing against her wishes. All it took was a hug and she found herself telling him about Natalie, the desert, the fear, the loss of hope, and finally… about giving up and dropping to her knees and laying down to die.

"They found me," she said, the familiar aching tears streaming down her face. "They searched so hard for me," she sobbed into her hands. "Nick's yelling my name and I hear the blades of the chopper and I see…"

"What?" Mike prompted.

"Gil… I could feel him holding my hand in the helicopter," she replied on a shaky breath. "I could see his face…"

"Who is this guy?" Mike asked, and was stunned to see the stark grief soften at his question.

"Dr. Gilbert Grissom… he's an entomologist, and until everything that happened in the desert, he was my supervisor."

"So… can I assume the two of you are together?" he asked.

Her face flushed, Sara nodded, a wide smile on her face, only to turn into a frown.

"I hope we're still together," she replied, shaking her head. "I left. I left him, Vegas, my friends…everyone."

Looking at her brother, Sara explained, "Everything started going darker and colder. I started having flashbacks – some old ones that had stopped when I was a teenager, and a lot of new ones. I stopped really caring, and everything began to seem so… hopeless."

"So you came here?" Mike asked, "Are you nuts?"

"That's the question," she laughed mirthlessly, "isn't it?"

"Sara, you're not nuts," he said when he realized part of her truly questioned this. "You've been through a nightmare, and you're dealing with how it affects your senses right now."

"Look what I came from, Mike," she replied, holding her hands out in a helpless gesture. "You know who I came from."

Sighing, he responded, "Sara, my father got tanked on coke, shot my little brother in the head, then turned around and shot my mother four times in the back."

"If you're destined to be nuts, then so am I," he stated. "Besides, someone who's truly nuts probably thinks they're normal and would never question themselves in the first place."

In hopes of lightening the mood, he smirked, "Now beat _that_ logic."

Sara laughed with him for a moment, and declared, "Okay, enough of the Sara pity party."

"Now, I want to hear about you. Tell me what you do with your spare time. Are you seeing anyone?" Sara asked.

With a sly grin, he said, "Oh yeah... let me tell you about Robin."

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VEGAS

"He's getting married this summer," Sara informed him, "and we're going to the wedding."

"Did you get to meet his fiancée?" Gil asked.

"The next night the three of us went out to dinner," she said. "She's a teacher as well – chemistry."

The couple stood up from the park bench and stretched.

He held out his hand and she accepted it.

Reaching down, Gil patted the dog. "You ready to go home, boy?"

Smiling, Sara held his hand and they walked towards home.


	9. Seventh Brick

A/N – Please note I changed the rating to M, as the topic has become more mature.

Disclaimer: Figured I'd better put this in again. This is a fictional story, not to be taken seriously, and I don't own the characters. But I hope CBS and the CSI crew don't mind if I borrow them.

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VEGAS

Sara stood at the sink, washing their lunch dishes, while Gil wiped down the table and counters. _We make a good team,_ she thought.

"So, did you do anything fun while you were in California?" he asked.

Smiling, she responded, "Yeah, I did. I went surfing a couple of times and I contacted a couple of old friends. I hung out on the beach and read."

"I didn't know you surfed," he interjected.

"You don't know everything about me, Gilbert Grissom," she said, grinning at him. She snaked her arms around his waist and pulled him into a kiss, deepening it, leaving him and her breathless.

"I may not know everything about you," he responded, then whispered into her ear, "But I know that your most sensitive spot is right here…" and he lightly laid is lips on her neck just below her ear, hearing and feeling the tight whimper escape from her throat. "I know that you shiver when I kiss you here," and he lightly laid his lips on the inner base of her wrist, feeling that familiar shiver.

"I also know that you can't stand to see people in pain," he murmured, "and that you are compassionate and… passionate."

Looking deeply into her soft brown eyes, he said, "I know you… and I love being surprised by the details."

They stood there in that embrace, sinking into each others eyes, no words needed, no more words wanted. Just holding and seeking, then giving through silence, neither moving more than a finger to brush across skin.

Finally, he whispered, "Tell me about some good times, dear."

Smiling, she pulled away, and sat on the couch, never letting go of his hand… leading him to sit down next to her.

"I had lunch with some old colleagues," she said. "It was nice to see some of these people again."

Looking down, putting together her thoughts, she continued, "They'd heard about Natalie. The CSI community is small, so I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was."

"They respected my wishes when I told them I didn't want to talk about it," she said. "I know Andy understood."

"Andy?" Gil queried.

Looking at him, Sara replied, "A good friend and a co-worker from the San Francisco lab. One I should have kept in closer contact with. She and I used to hang out after-hours and go to parties together."

Sighing, she continued, "Andy and I were close friends a long time ago, before I came to Vegas."

"For the first time in years, we really had a girl-talk night," Sara explained. "Let me tell you about it. It turned out to be… cathartic."

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SAN FRANCISCO

While Andy popped in _Steele Magnolias_, Sara poured the wine. When Sara had worked in San Francisco, this had been a monthly routine. It was girl's night, and it usually involved this movie, a large bottle of wine, and talk.

"You could have told me you were leaving because of _him_, you know," Andy accused as the movie started. "I would have understood," she said with a sly smile.

Taking a sip of her wine, Sara responded with, "It was complicated. He asked me to do him a favor by coming to Vegas for a case."

Looking at her friend, Sara continued, "I stayed when he asked, because I realized how much it would hurt to lose that connection."

"You were so stuck on him after that seminar!" Andy laughed. "All you could talk about was Dr. Grissom."

With a grimace and a sigh, Sara said, "I must have looked like a lost puppy, following him around all the time."

"Actually," Andy responded, "I saw the way he looked at you. It was so very obvious… don't forget I was at the lecture, too." She started laughing, "I swear when you started asking him question after question, the rest of us faded from the room."

Sara laughed, "I told him not long ago that I was trying to find a way to ask him out."

Then Sara told Andy about having to meet with Conrad Ecklie… about her response of two years and his of nine. By the end of it, they were laughing so hard they were crying.

Grinning slyly, Sara said, "I should have talked to you… explained after I left here."

"It's okay, Sara. I was actually happy for you, and maybe a little jealous," Andy responded.

"But you've got Adam now," Sara replied. "Speaking of which, where is he? And where is your son?"

"I kicked Adam out of the house until midnight," Andy laughed. "He's out with the boys. Jeremy is staying with a friend."

"Good," Sara responded emphatically, "Now tell me how you ended up married to the Trace Analysis tech at work. And tell me how you managed to do the job when you were pregnant."

Andy responded, "How Adam and I got together…"

"The team went out for drinks one night, a few weeks after you left. Of course, there was some speculation on your departure. Most of the team thought you just needed a change of pace and location. Adam and I knew you best, and had a clearer idea of why you up and transferred to Vegas."

Laughing, she continued, "Adam and I got a bit tipsy, and after the rest of the team left, he dragged me onto the dance floor."

Andy closed her eyes, remembering the moments, "Having him hold me… the feel of him… we'd been friends for years, but it felt so… right. He kept pulling me closer, and his eyes just dragged me under."

"The next thing I know, we're in a cab, and we can't seem to keep our hands off each other," she laughed.

Looking at Sara, Andy continued, "I spent that night with him, and every night since."

"As for doing the job while I was pregnant, I became an emotional mess in my second trimester. I ended up working in the lab until Jeremy was born," she said. "I was standing in the hall outside Adam's lab when I went into labor three weeks early."

Andy laughed, "I thought he was going to have a panic attack. It took me several minutes to calm him down."

"I'm sorry I missed your wedding and everything after… that I haven't come back to explain," Sara sighed.

"If you don't mind my asking, why are you here now? After all this time?"

"I know you heard the story about what happened this last summer," Sara said. "It… changed me. I'm trying to decide whether or not being a CSI is something I can do anymore."

"How does Dr. Grissom feel about all this?" Andy asked. "Why isn't he here with you?"

"First, just call him Griss or Grissom… it's what he's used to," Sara said.

With a self-depracating grin, Sara explained, "I left him a note. A stupid note. That's all. I told him I had to bury my ghosts before I could be myself again."

Looking at her friend, Sara continued, "The thing is, I don't regret doing this. I know that when I get back, he may have moved on… not want me. I might be too late. The thought of it petrifies me, but at the end of the day, this had to be done. When I go back to him, I need to be me again. And then pray he wants me back."

"I'm so glad I'm here," Sara said, reaching over to hug her friend.

"Now, I have a question." Andy asked, "Are you planning on seeing your parents?"

Sighing, Sara said, "I've got an appointment to see my mother in a couple of days. I haven't seen her in over a decade, and to be honest, I don't know how I feel about it."

"What about your father?"

"I might visit his grave," Sara replied.

"Now do me a favor," Andy said, "Tell me something good about growing up."

Surprised, Sara asked, "Why?"

"You've told me about the abuse, and you've told me about living in foster care, but you've never told me a single good thing that happened before you left for Harvard – you've pretended it didn't exist or affect you," Andy explained. "Maybe in all of this you need to remember that even in the worst of it, there were moments of happiness. So… tell me something good that happened."

Closing her eyes, Sara thought back. The dark was there, the bleakness, the black. She dug down into her memories, and suddenly found a flash of color. Keeping her eyes shut, she grinned. "Christmas – I was seven, and my father gave me a brand new bicycle. He was so thrilled when I wrapped my arms around him and told him he was the best daddy in the world. That whole day was wonderful."

"Okay," Andy said, smiling, "Tell me another good thing…"

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VEGAS

"I told Andy half a dozen stories about my parents, about foster parents, about school, and with every story, my view on my early childhood became just a little less dim, and a little less intimidating," Sara explained. "I remember good times in there. I remember that I was capable of being happy, even if it was just for a moment."

"It helps to remember the good times in there," Sara replied, "because it makes it all the more human. It gave me just a little more hope."

"Plus," she continued, "I think it helped me get ready for the meeting with my mother."

"How so?" Gil asked.

"It reminded me that in the end, I loved her and that I loved him," she said, "regardless of the circumstances, they were my mom and dad, and deep within me I loved them both."

"What else did you do with Andy?" he asked.

Laughing, her face alight, Sara relayed the rest of her story of that night.

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SAN FRANCISCO

"I'm getting pretty well hammered," Andy slurred. "How about you?"

"I'm already there," Sara replied, fumbling with the third wine bottle of the night.

"I think we need to restart the movie again," Andy giggled, "I haven't seen any of it yet."

"I think you're right," Sara soberly replied, "Girl's Night isn't complete without weeping over _Steele Magnolias_." She promptly got up and restarted the movie.

"Okay, get serious now. Watch the movie," Sara slurred her order.

Two hours later, Adam opened the front door and walked in on two women weeping uncontrollably on the floor in front of the television. Neither noticed the tall blond man, who just observed his wife and his former friend and co-worker. He noticed they were both listing a bit to one side of the other, slowly swaying. Then he noticed two empty wine bottles and one wine bottle whose cork appeared to be mutilated, but still stuck in the top of the unopened bottle.

With a smile, he walked to his wife, bent, and kissed her. He should have known she'd grab him by the shirt and deepen the kiss. It usually only took half a drink to get her to the point where she craved contact.

Sara watched the couple, fascinated by the way they looked at each other. Embarrassed, she looked away when the kiss became more… intense.

Breaking the kiss, Adam whispered, "Hey, honey, I'm home, and you are completely in la-la land, aren't you?"

"Yep, and so is Sara," Andy stated, pointing a waving finger at her grinning friend. "Wanna come cry with us?" she asked, tears evident on her cheeks.

"Can't," he laughed, "the movie's over."

"Oh!" Sara and Andy said in unison, seeing the credits roll across the screen. Using one another to prop against, they eventually gained their feet, and stood there trying not to fall over.

"I think we're having an overnight guest, honey," Andy loudly announced just a few moments before Sara tipped forward onto the couch, and snuggled down.

Laughing, Adam pulled off Sara's shoes, picked up a blanket, placed it over Sara, and then wrapped his hand around his wife's waist. "Let's go to bed, baby," he said, and lifted his wife into his arms, and whisked her upstairs to bed.

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VEGAS

"I should probably warn you of something I'd forgotten until days later," Sara said to Gil, "Andy's specialty is the psychology of a crime scene. She reads people, and gets them to respond."

"I can see from the look on your face that it helped talking to her," Gil responded.

"It helped more than I thought it could. It lightened up my memories. She made me see things more objectively, and they became a little less… dark," Sara explained. "I'll always shy away from memories, because so many of them are painful, but it helps to know that in there are happy times. It makes me feel… hopeful."

"I ended up spending the next day and night with Andy, Adam, and Jeremy," she said. "Their son is seven, and a real kick. He's got Andy's brains and black hair and Adam's wicked sense of humor and green eyes. He's going to be a real heart breaker some day."

"You said you were afraid I wouldn't want you when you came home," Gil said. He'd been stuck on that part of the story the entire telling, but he knew what needed to be done.

He pulled her onto his lap, wrapped his arms around her, and whispered, "Hey honey, you're home, and I waited for you."


	10. Eighth Brick

A/N – Please R&R.

Eighth Brick

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VEGAS

Gil Grissom stood at the stove, trying to figure out just how one cooked tofu. He looked at the vegetables he was sautéing, but for the life of him couldn't figure out what to do with the squishy stuff in the dish beside him.

Sara stood behind him, stifling a laugh.

"Honey… you hate tofu," she giggled, "you don't have to use it." Unable to hold back, the laugh broke through.

"So you think it's pretty funny, huh," he said, exasperated.

"I was trying to make something I knew you'd like," he admitted. "Then I realized I had no idea what to do with this stuff."

As he was saying this, he smelled something… burning.

"Well, damn!" he yelled, yanking the blackened vegetables off the burner.

Sighing, he said, "I give up. Wanna order in Chinese?"

"Sure," she replied, grinning. "And next time let me take care of the tofu."

Gil made the phone call for delivery of primarily vegetarian dishes. He joined Sara on the couch, as she flipped over to _Forensic Files_ on television. The two watched the show, making comments her and there about methodology until the doorbell rang. Standing up, Gil made his way to the front door. He paid for their meal, pulled out a couple of plates to dish up, and carried their plates and forks to the living room.

"You do realize that not many people can actually eat when they're looking at the skeletal remains of a human being," Sara commented, chewing on stir-fry vegetables. "One thing about being a CSI… after your first really nasty autopsy, not much will ruin your appetite."

They continued to eat, and when they were done, Sara shut off the television.

"I suppose now I should tell you about my parents… about seeing them," she said, putting both of their plates on the coffee table.

"It occurs to me that we're seeing Natalie tomorrow afternoon, and I want this out before we see her," Sara explained.

Gil leaned back against the couch, and held onto her hand.

"Tell me," was all he said.

"After all I'd done already in California… talking with Rose, Mark, Julie, Mike, Andy… I knew what I needed to do."

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TOMALES BAY

Sara walked into the cemetery, grasping a piece of paper in one hand that contained the marker number of her father's grave with a map. In the other hand, she held a small bouquet of simple daisies. She didn't know what had possessed her to bring them, but she felt it was needed. Slowly making her way up the aisles, she found the row and hesitantly made her way over to his grave.

The grave had a slab of smooth concrete laid into the earth, with only a name and an identification marker on it. Obviously no one had placed a headstone there. She crouched down near the marker.

"Hello," she mumbled. Feeling tears prick her eyes, she looked skyward at the beautiful blue sky. Once that welling of emotion subsided, she looked back down.

"I don't know you," she said. "I never knew you. Part of me aches because I never got to know the man you could have been, the father you could have been."

"A friend taught me to see glimpses of what could have been, and I now wonder if we could have been happy. If you hadn't turned into a drunk… if your anger hadn't driven you to hurt us… maybe we could have been happy. You could have seen me win first place in the science fair. Maybe you could have been there to watch me graduate from high school. I wanted to see your eyes light up when I got into Harvard."

"I went to counseling because of you. I've had flashback because of you," she said, bitterly.

Sara sat back on her heels and looked down at the neatly trimmed grass covering his grave.

"You hurt me. You hurt mom," she sobbed, tears forming in her eyes, drops slowly dripping onto the ground below. Taking a calming breath, Sara wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

"You destroyed my family, so I made a new one," Sara said.

"I've worried that I would be like you – causing nothing but pain in my wake," she sighed.

"It all comes back to violence, and I'm tired of violence."

Sara continued, "I work with cops. I dream the man you could have been would be proud of me for that, but I doubt the man I knew would look on it with pride."

"I've had a tough year," she sighed, "and along the way I lost who I was. Hell, I lost trust in myself all those years ago."

"I'm not lost anymore, daddy," she whispered. "I'll never understand you and I think I can accept that, because in the end, I have to let it go. I have to let you go. I need to open my arms to the people in my life that I love – my _real_ family."

"I've learned something about myself since I've been here. In the end, you were just a man who lived in my house. I adored you once upon a time, but the first bruise you gave me and the first bone you broke destroyed that. I have felt fear my entire life because of you, but that fear is fading," she said.

"I'm saying goodbye. This will be the only time I ever get to say this, because I won't be back. I hope the man I wanted you to be can understand this. Maybe if you'd lived long enough, you could have found a way to be that man, but that's not possible now. That dream of mine died with a knife in your gut."

"Maybe that's the biggest lesson I learn from you… that maybe there's hope for people like me," she said. "I'm glad I ended up away from you. Even if it was hard to go through my life in the system, I landed where I was meant to be. But maybe if you'd lived, there would have been hope for us to find each other in a different time and place."

Sara looked out over the cemetery, seeing ornate headstones laid in place by loved ones, and engraved headstones with beautiful inscriptions.

_It's time,_ she thought to herself. _It's time to let go_.

Looking down at the marker, under which her father lay, she whispered, "I forgive you for your faults, and I forgive me for staying silent."

Sara placed the daisies and the paper on the ground near the grave.

"Goodbye."

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VEGAS

"Wow," was all Gil could say. "Wow."

"It amazed me how easy it was to say the words," Sara murmured.

Wordlessly, Sara got up, picked up the phone, and walked into the bedroom. Ten minutes later, she sat back down beside Gil, and said, "I've asked the team to come over after shift for breakfast."

He just looked at her, quizzically, "Why?"

"It's time I let them see me… the real me," she replied.

Sitting back against the cushions, she picked up Gil's hand again.

"While I'm telling you about _him_, I need to tell you about _her_," Sara said, looking into Gil's eyes.

"All right," he replied.

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SAN FRANCISCO

Sara hated these places. She hated the institutions. Since that fateful day, the only time she ever saw her mother was in one of these places.

Rarely was she lucid back in those days. Sara didn't hold out much hope for her to be lucid now.

"I have an appointment to see Laura Sidle," she told the man at the reception desk.

The young man in the white coat picked up the phone, and a few minutes later a woman, dressed professionally, came out to the lobby.

"You're Laura Sidle's daughter?" she asked.

Upon receiving Sara's nod, the woman said, "I'm Dr. Theresa Lincoln, her therapist. Why don't you come to my office?"

The office itself was warm and inviting, unlike the hallways to the institution. A fresh vase of orchids sat on a side table, and the walls were painted a warm spring yellow – not brassy, but comforting.

"I've been working with Laura for almost a decade," Dr. Lincoln said. "She's made some advances, but we've had to often keep her sedated."

"Why?" Sara asked.

"She has a lot of triggers that set her off… make her hysterical and we know trying to put restraints on her makes it a thousand times worse," the doctor explained. "When she becomes hysterical, she sometimes tries to hurt herself or someone else. Considering why she's here, we feel it's necessary to sedate her."

"Is she sedated now?" Sara asked.

"No," the doctor smiled.

Letting out a breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding, Sara simply said, "I need to talk to her. I have some things to say."

"I can see that you do," Dr. Lincoln said. "But I think you need to see a few things before you go in and talk to her."

Dr. Lincoln reached into a filing cabinet and pulled out a folder.

"When I saw you were coming, I pulled this together. It's stuff your mother has collected over the years," she said. And she handed Sara the file.

Sara began to flip through the folder, pulling out one item at a time. She pulled out a clipping from a Boston paper – on it was a picture of Sara's graduating class from Harvard. In the middle of the picture stood Sara herself in her cap and gown, grinning from ear to ear. The next item was a letter Sara had written as a teenager, telling her mother about a boy who had invited her to the senior prom. In there, she found an entire article on the physics of material gathering that Sara had written for a journal when she'd still been in San Francisco. There was a photocopy of her high school diploma.

Sara just stared at these items, as she pulled more and more from the file. When she looked up, she found Dr. Lincoln smiling softly at her.

"She's so proud of you, Sara," the doctor told her. "She's been trying to keep track of you, and to be honest she's had help from some of the staff here. It gives her peace to know that you have become so successful."

Bereft of words, Sara simply stared, breathing deep to prevent the tears that have become so common for her lately from spilling over. On a deep breath she said, "I had no idea." Guilt from not visiting swept over her.

"Sara," Dr. Lincoln said, "It's okay, you know. After everything you've been through, it's okay that you haven't visited. It's okay to be angry with her. If she was my mother, I'd be angry, too."

"Why don't we go see her," Dr. Lincoln said, and offered Sara a hand up from her chair.

Walking down the sterile hallway, Sara's senses were assaulted by the smell of antiseptic cleaners and urine, with an underlying smell of body order.

"Here's her room," the doctor said, leading Sara into a small cell.

Kneeling before the dark haired woman sitting quietly in a chair, Dr. Lincoln quietly said, "Laura, your daughter's here."

A quick look of panic passed over the frail woman, her brown eyes darting to the doorway.

Sara stood in the doorway, assessing the woman in the chair.

_She's so small_, she thought. _She never seemed small before_.

The relationship between the two women was obvious. While Laura might be shorter than her daughter, they shared the same distinct cheek bones, hair, and eyes. To anyone who didn't know them, they were so obviously mother and daughter.

Dr. Lincoln beckoned Sara over to a chair before excusing herself with, "I'll leave you to talk, but I'll be near the door."

For long minutes, the two just looked at each other. Sara didn't know where to start, and Laura simply stared at her, waiting, both thinking back to a time long ago. Sara broke the gaze and looked around the room – at the walls with simple water colors taped up, to the cot in the corner, and finally back to her mother.

"Hi," Sara finally said. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I had to come see you…"

"I'm happy to see you, Sara," Laura whispered. She let on a small smile when she continued, "I was excited when I heard you were coming to see me."

"I had to see you," Sara said, "I have to… be free of this," and Sara spread her hands open in defeat.

"Do you understand what I'm saying, mom?" Sara asked, not sure just how 'with it' she currently was.

"I'm having one of more… aware… moments," Laura replied. "I've worked with Dr. Lincoln these past few days to make sure I could be for this visit."

"My life is a mess," Sara whispered, "it always has been a little messy. But when I left home to come to California, my life was in shambles."

"You may not want to hear what I have to say," Sara warned. "I don't want to hurt any advances you've made, so if it gets to be too much, I'll leave. But I need to say these things to you."

Dr. Lincoln had been watching from the doorway. "If it becomes too much, I'll step in Sara," she said. "Say what you need to say. Maybe it'll be good for both of you."

Taking a deep breath, Sara began, "You didn't protect me. I was no more than an after-thought to either of you. If I was in the way, I was thrown into a corner."

She stopped in thought before continuing, "I have always felt I need to hide myself behind a fake exterior, because I've always felt like showing my vulnerabilities made me weak and worthless."

Sara stood and began to pace and stopped in front of her mother when she said quietly, "My parents made me this way."

Tears began to pool in Laura's eyes, and slide down her cheeks. Her trembling hand reached out and grabbed onto Sara's arm lightly. "I didn't know how to be any different, Sara."

"I can understand that, mom," Sara said, looking her mother in the eye. "I've seen so many women in the same place as you. They didn't know what to do, either. And it makes me so damn angry…"

"I'm so tired of being angry," Sara said, "I won't go on like this."

Looking her mother in the eye, she said, "I won't be afraid to weak. I won't be hiding anymore. But… I need to understand. Only you can answer my question."

"What happened?" Sara asked.

Sitting back in her chair, Laura looked at Dr. Lincoln, then back at Sara.

"He'd thrown you across the room," she said. "I don't know if you remember. He was drunk, but not drunk enough to pass out. He was so angry, because he told you to do something, and you did something I'd never had the guts to do. You said 'No'. And when you did…"

Laura stopped for a moment, getting her furious tears under control, breathing through soft sobs.

Then she continued, "I realized in that moment something had to happen. It couldn't go on like this anymore. I was terrified he was going to kill my baby. You were hiding in your closet, and he was searching your room."

Laura's eyes glazed over a bit when she said, "I felt dazed. I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first knife I saw, and I went after him."

Taking a deep breath, Laura looked to Sara and said, "I think you know the rest."

"My mind snapped, and I ended up hiding in my own head for years and years. I'm getting better," Laura stated, looking for confirmation from Dr. Lincoln, "but I accept this may be the best my life can ever be."

In that moment, Sara realized something amazingly important. She'd always thought she was the one who had to break the cycle. But it was her mother who had started the process.

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VEGAS

"I'll be visiting her every now and again," Sara told Gil.

"Can I come with you?" he asked, and Sara hugged him with a smile.

"I'd love it," she responded.

Sitting up, Sara told him, "I never realized what it took out of her to act the way she had. I thought it was insanity, and I believed until then that it may have passed on to me."

"We talked for awhile longer, and then I talked to Dr. Lincoln," Sara explained. "The doctor is going to keep me up to date on her progress."

She looked at Gil when she said, "I'm going to keep contact with her, because I think I need to. I think that maybe my successes personally and professionally give her strength."

"It's funny," Gil said, "what a little hope will do for a person."


	11. Ninth Brick

The Return – Ninth Brick

A/N – Please R&R. I'm enjoying writing the story so far… we still have a bit to go, though. And thanks to all who have reviewed.

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VEGAS – To Stay

Gil and Sara woke at six o'clock, both tired, maybe a little sore, and grinning from ear to ear. They weren't dressed until seven, due to his idea of conserving water, and the very foreseeable events that happened in the shower together.

Standing in the kitchen, Sara pulled out all the makings for pancakes and fresh fruit.

Noticing the sheer quantity of the food she was pulling out of cupboards and the refrigerator, Gil finally asked, "Just how many people are we expecting?"

"A few," was her nonchalant reply.

Suspiciously, he edged closer and asked, "How many is a few?"

Turning to face him, Sara listed off, "Nick, Greg, Catherine, Warrick, Brass, Sophia, Doc Robbins, David, Hodges, Wendy, Mandy, Archie, Bobby, and… um… Ecklie."

The orange juice he'd been drinking spewed across the wall when he heard "Ecklie".

Grinning at the dumbfounded look on his face, Sara couldn't help but lean over and kiss the dribble of juice off his chin.

"Well," she warned, "I told you I wanted to talk to the team."

Turning back to her task at hand, Sara began preparations on the fruit, chopping and cleaning. Gil just shook his head and started cleaning the wall.

As the last of the preparations was being completed, the doorbell rang.

"Could you get that, honey?" Sara asked, bent over, placing the last of the pancakes on the mountainous tray consuming the oven.

Gil shouldn't have been surprised by the person at the door. After all, their first guest actually worked during the day, and only at night when warranted.

"Good morning, Conrad. Please… come in," Gil gestured him into the house, escorting him to the living room. "Would you like some coffee?"

"Yes, thank you," Ecklie replied, not entirely sure why he was here. He took a seat in a comfortable arm chair and took a moment to scan the room, noticing the feminine touches here and there easily interwoven with the masculine.

Momentarily, Gil returned with a couple mugs of coffee and sat down on the couch opposite of Conrad Ecklie.

"So, why am I here?" Ecklie asked.

"To tell you the truth, I don't have a clue," Gil grinned. "This is Sara's idea, not mine."

Clearing his throat, slightly uncomfortable, Ecklie placed his coffee cup on a coaster and looked at Gil.

"You're not thinking of leaving the lab, are you Grissom?" he asked nervously.

"Not as far as I know," Gil replied, honestly. As of that moment, he really didn't know what he was planning to do in the future. A lot of that decision rested with Sara. He knew he could work anywhere he wanted, and in the end was willing to move to be with her.

The doorbell rang and Gil rose to answer, leaving Conrad Ecklie alone with Gil's cryptic reply.

People began trickling in, sometimes in groups, a few one at a time, over the next ten minutes. Apparently, everyone was curious enough and anxious enough to see Sara that they hadn't hesitated leaving on time if not early. Jim and Sophia arrived first, and were immediately set to work by Sara, whose nerves had finally kicked in.

When she realized she was on the verge of barking orders at her fellow co-workers, she excused herself from the kitchen, Gil following close behind.

In the front hall, Sara gasped, "Oh my God! What am I doing?"

Pulling her to him, Sara wrapped her arms around Gil like he was a life-preserver and she was drowning. So he did the one thing he knew would calm her. Running his hands into the thick curls, he pulled her face to his, lips touching lips, nibbling and tugging. He deepened the kiss on a moan, until he felt her arms slacken, then begin to slip under his shirt. He groaned when he felt her hand slip under the back of his loose shirt. All thought flew out of his head when he felt her hand on his skin.

They hadn't heard the doorbell, so the latest group had let themselves in.

"NOW do you see what we mean?" Greg and Nick exclaimed at the same time, interrupting what Sara truly believed at that moment was possibly the most… arousing… of her life.

"We had to put up with _that_ for the entire drive home, man," Nick said, shaking his head and walking past the couple.

"I'm really happy for you guys, but you're corrupting my young, innocent mind," Greg laughed, a glint in his eye. He winked at Sara as he followed Nick.

Catherine and Warrick stood just inside the door. With a half grin, half smirk expression, Warrick for the first time acknowledged them as a 'couple' by saying, "Congratulations, man," and putting his hand out for Gil to shake. With a wry smile, the older man shook Warrick's hand.

"Everyone's in there," Gil said, gesturing towards the living room.

"You know, we didn't have a clue," Catherine said.

She shook her head and grinned, "I don't know how we didn't have a clue when the two of you were so obvious." 

Laughing, Gil responded, "Twenty twenty hindsight is wonderful, isn't it?"

Sara stepped forward and hugged Catherine, taking them both by surprise. That kind of contact had never been part of their relationship, and even their friendly relationship had been strained for a long time.

"Thanks for coming, Catherine," Sara said. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this."

Guiding Catherine to the living room, Sara left Gil alone in the hallway, and the doorbell rang again.

Eventually, everyone arrived.

Sara surveyed the people in their living room and dining area – an open area just off the living room. Some sat in chairs, some on a couch or recliner. The noise was new to the house, as it was always just Sara, Gil, and their dog… who seemed to be enjoying the food and attention from everyone.

Eventually, people finished eating, plates were stacked by the sink, and people made their way to the living room with refreshed cups of coffee.

Sara made her way from the kitchen with a fresh cup of tea, and scooted Greg out of her favorite recliner. Gil stood behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder, rubbing her neck with his thumb. As everyone became aware of Sara and Gil watching them, they fell silent… waiting.

"We'd like to thank you all for coming," Gil said to the room at large, as Sara slowly scanned the various people spread throughout.

As she made eye contact with Gil, he nodded for her to take over.

Nervously, she joked, "It's been a helluva year, huh?" and received various chuckles throughout the room.

Exhaling long and audibly, Sara forced her muscles to relax, and became serious.

"I asked you to come here, because you deserve an explanation… on a lot of things," she said.

Looking up at the blankness of the ceiling, she tried to remember exactly what she'd rehearsed, but her mind was just empty. She looked back at Gil, then glanced at Sophia.

"At my second foster home, I'd been waking up screaming every night. The nightmares had come on with a vengeance after I snuck into the theater and watched this slasher flick," she explained. "They hit just a little too close to home."

Mirthlessly, she laughed, "It was the blood splatter that brought them on. It didn't even look real, but it was enough to take me back to my father dead on my bedroom floor, and my mother holding the knife over him."

Sara purposely made herself look at the reactions of her co-workers, regardless of the stares she received. She needed them to know that she could stand up to whispers and rumors. And she needed to prove to herself that people knowing her most intimate secrets wouldn't make her shrink into nothing but a victim.

"I was in that home for three weeks before they decided to move me," she said.

Taking a slow breath, Sara continued, "My next home was better… much better. They tolerated the two in the morning screams, sometimes even cried with me. Eventually, the nightmares went away entirely."

"But without thought to asking me, my foster family moved me someplace where I could go to a school for kids with high IQs like me."

Looking up at Gil, she murmured, "That's when I left Julie's house."

"After that, it was one home after another… some good, some not so good, but really none of them bad," she said. "I stopped counting the number of homes on the fifteenth."

"When I aged out of the system, I had a choice to hit the streets on my own or take the scholarship to Harvard."

Sara looked at Catherine and said, "Here I had my dream handed to me, and it made me feel desperate – because in the end there were no choices – just survival."

Smiling, she said, "I loved Harvard. I loved the history of the town. I loved the school. I loved the classes and the classrooms. But it was way outside my comfort zone on the most basic levels – I had a freedom there I never felt I deserved or earned."

"When I finished there, I went to Berkley to get my masters," she continued, "on another full ride scholarship. And I loved it. I was back with the ocean and familiar surroundings. And to tell you the truth, I hadn't left much of anyone behind in Boston."

Sara shut her eyes for a moment, sighed, and opened them saying, "I don't regret the steps I've taken in my life – good or bad."

Looking at Greg, she said, "I should have said something to you. You're probably the best friend I've ever had, besides Gil, and I should have said something about leaving."

Greg cocked his head, and replied, "I think maybe you did, and I just didn't understand."

"I'm not sure I could've explained it all at that time. I hadn't slept in weeks," she said. "I came back to the lab way too soon. But then again, I hadn't expected the nightmares to start again… or to start having flashbacks."

"The same ones you had as a kid?" Nick asked, his face ashen, remembering his own nightmares after his abduction.

"Some," Sara replied, "along with even more intense new ones… drowning, crushing weight, unable to breath. The worst, though, was just giving up. Waking up shaking with this thought that I was going to die or I was dead, so why fight it anymore."

"I felt like I was back to square one in my life – back to no control," Sara explained, "and I couldn't do it anymore."

Standing, Sara paced to the sliding glass door facing onto the backyard.

"The only way I saw out of the spiral was to go back to the beginning… back to the night my mother stabbed my father to death. Answer the questions that left the holes in my life, and took away any identity I ever had," she explained.

Sara turned around and looked at Gil.

"I've gotten really good at being able to… push off what I'm feeling," she said into the glass, and crossing her arms in front of her. "But I've never really been able to get rid of the anger and sometimes rage that builds up."

Looking across the crowded living room, she said, "So I blow up occasionally."

Wincing a bit, she looked at Catherine then Ecklie, and sarcastically commented, "You've gotten to experience _that_ lovely side of me."

"Actually," Sara said, turning fully towards Ecklie, "I wanted to thank you."

At his look of confusion, she explained, "I believe you spoke to a Mark Elliott? SFPD?"

At his nod, she said, "He told me exactly what you said about me. And it made me realize that I needed to start facing up to myself first and foremost. The fact is, you were right. I could be self-destructive."

Smiling, she continued, "But thanks for letting him know my solve-rate. It seems you were bluntly honest with him, which I think he and I both needed."

"In the end, I went back to where I could get answers."

The more comfortable she became talking, the less adrenaline rushed through her, and the more fatigued Sara felt.

Sitting back down, she felt Gil's hand on her shoulders, gently massaging. She gave him a quick grin and a thumbs-up before she continued.

"I re-met a lot of people along the way," Sara said, "and I think in the process, I've managed to meet myself."

Giving the first real smile since she'd greeted everyone earlier, she said, "I know it sounds strange, but I feel like somewhere along the way I remembered who I'd wanted to be."

"What's that?" Warrick asked.

"A member of a family… a real family," she sighed. "And when I look around this room, I see that."

"Greg," she asked, "how many times have we fallen asleep together watching television or a movie?"

"Hodges," she asked, with tears pooling, "do you really think Nick and I don't know how hard you fought to get us back safe? Or that we aren't thankful for you everyday we're still alive?"

"Nick… when you were kidnapped, it was like we were missing a limb. Without you, nothing would have been the same," she said, the tears falling freely.

"Catherine," she said, "we may not see eye to eye on a lot of things, but I've never respected anyone the way I respect you. And you've been there to just hang out when I've needed that kind of friendship the most."

"Warrick," she finished, "how many times have you pushed me to see the positive? How many times have you walked up to me and told me exactly what you saw in me when I needed to hear it the most? You've never held back."

"Archie over there every now and again takes images of me walking the hallways to provide proof that I need more sleep," she laughed, and watched Archie duck his head and blush.

Gil unexpectedly reached down and pulled Sara up to stand next to him.

"I think I see where you're going with this," he said in response to her curious look.

"You hide yourself to maintain some semblance of control. The funny thing is, I do as well," he told her. "But it's become so second nature, I'm not sure either one of us really thinks about it."

Looking at the room full of people, Gil said, "The fact is, Sara and I didn't outright try to hide anything from any of you. Our lives kept crossing paths, weaving in and out, and finally ending up in the same place… permanently."

"I think at the start, we just weren't sure _what_ was going to happen," Sara interjected. "So we didn't say anything, because there'd be the whole stupid junior high awkwardness and picking of sides if things didn't work out."

"After that," Gil continued for her, "we just kept things the way they were."

He winced when he said, "About a year and a half into our relationship it occurred to us that we should've read the lab rules."

At Ecklie's raised brow, Gil explained, "You cannot possibly tell me you've read the HR rulebook cover to cover, Conrad."

The room broke into laughter, which didn't calm until Sara raised her hand to get their attention. Looking sober, Sara scanned her audience, focusing her gaze on Nick.

"I don't think I ever thanked any of you for what you did, though," she said. "The nightmares aren't gone, but they're dimming down, and not occurring as often. And the worst to fight – the lack of faith – isn't what happened at all. I had this hope sitting deep in me that my team – my friends – would find me."

"I never thanked you either," Gil said, looking at each person in the room, and snaking his arm around Sara's waist. "There are no words that can express my gratitude."

"I want our home to be open to you," Sara said. "And _I _want to be open to you."

"Make that '_We_', dear," Gil said. At her surprised look, he grinned, "I don't know how successful it'll be… I tend just not to notice anything around me, if you recall."

"That's okay, honey," she said, kissing him on the cheek, "I'll just keep reminding you."

"So, what's next?" Brass asked. "Have you decided when or if you're coming back to the lab?"

"I'm not going to rush the decision," she replied. "I became a CSI, because it was a way I could keep up with my fascination in science and help people at the lowest point in their lives. I'm just not sure if this is something I want to keep doing, though."

Turning to face Gil, she said, "First, there's someone I have to see – this afternoon."

Placing a hand on his cheek, she murmured, "I know you're not happy about it."

Pulling her into a hug, he replied, "But I _do_ understand. And I'll be with you."

Everyone in the room knew they were talking about Natalie. The Sara and Grissom they'd seen so relaxed just moments before held to each other tensely and tightly.

"Well, guys," Brass said, standing up, "thanks for the breakfast."

Walking over to Sara, he kissed her on the cheek, whispered "Good luck" and led the procession of team members out the door. He had a feeling they'd all be hearing from Sara soon.

After the last person left, Gil pulled Sara to him.

"There's just one thing I want before we do this thing this afternoon," he murmured.

"What's that?" she asked.

"I think I need to remind us both that we're still alive," he said, dipping his head to hers, kissing her lightly, and slowly leading her toward their bedroom.


	12. Tenth Brick

A/N – I hope you all enjoy the scene with Natalie. I'm thinking of continuing the story. Let me know what you think.

Please, please, please R&R (notice the begging here?)

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"Nervous?" Gil asked, standing with Sara staring at the entrance to the mental institution.

"Yes," she breathed out. "A little scared, too."

Squeezing her hand, he said, "Here we go," and together they resolutely made their way through the front door.

Sara looked around the lobby and whispered, "It looks just like the rest of them."

"I swear that's the same guy at the information desk as at my mother's facility," she remarked.

Approaching the orderly, Gil cleared his throat and said, "We have an appointment with Dr. Gilroy."

The young man flipped through a chart and picked up the phone.

"Dr. Gilroy will see you shortly. Please have a seat," the orderly said and waved towards chairs on the other side of the lobby.

For ten minutes Gil and Sara flipped through magazines on a coffee table, both stopping frequently to quickly grip and squeeze a hand before dropping it to pick up another magazine. They were holding hands, silently speaking, when Dr. Gilroy approached.

"Dr. Grissom, you called the other day requesting to see Natalie Davis?" he asked.

"Yes. Please… I'm Gil and this is Sara."

"Okay… Gil, Sara – I'm Dr. Gilroy, Natalie's psychiatrist. Why don't you come with me?"

They followed the doctor down the hall of the institution, Sara's mind going back to the case they'd had in this place years before.

Watching Sara's eyes narrow, Gil gripped her hand tightly, aware of the fact he could have lost her the last time they'd been here. He vividly recalled the panic he'd felt when he saw that man holding a sharpened stick to her jugular.

"I'm with you," he whispered on a shaky breath as they entered Dr. Gilroy's office. Unlike Dr. Lincoln's office in San Francisco, this one felt cold – its gray walls lifeless and intimidating. The stark furniture and lack of life made Sara shiver.

Sitting in chairs facing the desk, they waited for Dr. Gilroy to take a seat.

"I understand you want to see Natalie," he said. Then, picking up a file he donned his reading glasses, flipped through a couple pages, and began to scan a page.

Finally, he said, "I don't know how much you expect to accomplish coming here today."

Looking up from the file, he continued, "Natalie goes in and out of 'episodes' that last up to weeks."

"How is she now?" Gil asked.

"She's medicated, but responsive," he replied.

"We'd like to see her," Gil said.

With a sigh, Dr. Gilroy stood up and said, "All right."

He led them down the women's wing of the unit – a mirror of the men's wing – until he reached a small room. When he opened the door, Sara and Gil saw the stringy-haired blond sitting at a table facing them.

"Her eyes are glazed over," Sara murmured.

Gil didn't hear her, though. He couldn't take his eyes off of Natalie, and from some dark depth within, he felt a burning rage begin to grow. His face began to flush as the heat of his utter hatred began to consume him.

Sara watched his blue eyes turn midnight. A flare of something raw passed over his face, prompting her to run her hand down his arm. She'd never seen that kind of blind fury in him before.

"I know we came here for me," she murmured, "but I think maybe you need this just as much."

Sara gestured for Gil to sit. Slowly, he sank into a chair across from Natalie, feeling Sara's hand rest on his shoulder and squeeze.

"Grissom… Grissom… Grissom… " Natalie repeated dully.

But then, her high-pitched little girl's voice asked, "Do you really like my miniature? Yours needs help. Mine is per-fect…"

Gil could feel every nerve in his hands come awake, wanting to shake her like he had before – or wrap his hands around her neck and pressed until she gasped for breath.

"Look behind me, Natalie. You didn't take her," he hissed.

"Oh... but there's a pain in her sawdust," she sang, looking at Sara. "The poor poor thing is alllllllll broken."

Looking up, Gil watched Sara's ashen face bloom with color and something flare in her eyes.

"On no, Natalie, I'm not broken," Sara replied with a smile. "I'm not broken at all."

"I could have killed you," he said to Natalie, "I wanted to keep shaking you until you fell apart like a broken doll."

"A piece of me wishes I'd done just that," Gil sneered.

Behind him, Sara's eyes widened – shocked.

"But what if I'd killed her?" Natalie asked, childish curiosity etched across her face. "Would you have killed me then?"

It was in that question Gil found his greatest, truth, fear, and… strength.

"No," he said, looking at Sara, "because my mind and heart would have died with her."

Tears slipped down Sara's cheeks as she listened to his admission. Standing, Gil reached, wiped away the tears, and whispered into her ear, "I don't know how to breathe without _this_ anymore." He helplessly placed one hand against his heart, and the other against hers.

"Everyone told me you were so calm," Sara said, holding him close.

"I couldn't think – I was so damn desperate," he said on a shaky breath. "Why do you think Catherine took charge out in the desert?"

He leaned his forehead into hers, whispered, "I love you" into her ear.

Turning toward Natalie, Gil leaned over the table, his face not a foot from hers.

"I hope you can see what I'm feeling, Natalie. I hope if you look in my eyes, you see the pity," he stated. "Because that's all you deserve."

"You lost," Sara said to Natalie, then looked at Gil, squeezed his hand and smiled.

"We won."

Twining his fingers through hers, Gil pulled her from the room, nodded to Dr. Gilroy standing just outside the room, and quickly made his way down the hall. Once he reached the lobby, he began to shake.

"Gil?" Sara asked, concerned, "Are you okay?"

Bending at the waist, he filled his lungs deeply and exhaled long – repeatedly – for several minutes.

"God, Sara," he said, finally yanking her into his arms, and burying his face in her hair.

"I could have killed for you. I _wanted_ to kill for you," he acknowledged.

"It scares me," he said, pulling back to look in her face. "It scares me that I can feel that way."

"Gil, I would be worried if it didn't scare you," Sara responded. "I'm pretty sure being scared is what makes you sane."

"I don't know if I'll ever really get over what she did to you, Sara. I don't know if I can."

"Honey," she responded, "I don't expect us to be the same after everything that happened, just like I don't expect the nightmares to just suddenly stop. It's going to take time.

"However," she continued, "I think we've just taken the first step."

Grasping his hand tighter, Sara walked toward the exit, and pulled Gil into the afternoon light.


	13. First Step

A/N – Sorry for the short hiatus on this story. I wanted to see 8x07 before I continued, and ended up half-writing (still working on) another darker story. Anyway, I'm back to this one for a bit.

Please Read & Review

Disclaimer: I'm a peon in life. Don't sue me.

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The drive home from seeing Natalie had been furious, the need to touch and be touched by sanity and life so strong, they shook when they walked in the front door together. Grabbing his hand, she pulled until they reached their bedroom and began feverishly stripping clothes from one another. They sought and found that elemental bond, falling into one another.

She lay with her head on his chest, feeling boneless, and wanting nothing more than to lay there sated for the rest of her life. He grinned when she sighed, and began to trace circles on her shoulder with his fingers.

"I do love you," Gil whispered into her hair.

Smiling, he watched Sara's face as she turned it up toward him, reaching for a soft kiss.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, smiling herself. Through the bedroom window, they watched the afternoon sun dip into evening twilight, and that first hint of darkness begin to settle.

"I need food," Gil finally said.

Once dressed, they lazily made their way to the kitchen, and opted for ordering Thai food to be delivered.

While they ate, Gil asked, "Have you thought about what you want to do?"

It was something they hadn't really talked about. Sara had not yet mentioned what she wanted to do with her time now that she was back in Vegas. For a moment, Gil thought that maybe he'd asked too soon, because all he received was silence from her. When he was about to retract the question, she spoke.

"I don't know what I'm capable of doing," she said, putting her fork down and sitting back in the dining table chair. "I only know how to be a CSI. It's all I've ever really wanted to be in my life."

Standing, she made her way over to the couch and sat down.

He followed her, where she made room for him to sit, so she could snuggle down into his embrace.

"Why did you want to become a CSI?" Gil asked.

"You really know how to ask the simple questions, don't you, honey?" she responded dryly.

Blowing out a breath, she started.

"I once told you that I thought the violence in my family was normal, and didn't realize it wasn't until the night my mother killed my father? I think part of it started right there. But not with them."

Sara paused, thinking of how to explain, and then continued, "I think it started with Rose, and how she got me out of the house. It continued with Mark, and how horrific he found the scene. Even Julie and Rob played a part."

Sitting up to look at him, her face sober, she said, "They all helped. I think that's what I wanted most – to be able to help. But it was much more than that."

"I was the class know-it-all," she said, her expression pained. "I didn't try to be, but I picked things up easily… especially the sciences."

Gil tilted his head a bit and smiled, "You've always seen patterns. Your mind can visualize pieces of information and find how they connect. It's why your solve rate has always been so high."

"I had originally thought I'd be a cop," she said, then laughed. Laying down, she put her head in his lap and sighed when he ran his hand through her hair.

He smirked, "Sorry, honey… but you've got the mind of a scientist. You would never have been challenged enough mentally."

"I tried graduate school," Sara said, "I got my masters, and thought about going back to Harvard to get my Ph.D., but I was ready to be done with school. I can't imagine myself being a professor."

"Neither can I," Gil responded.

When she raised her eyebrows in surprise, he continued, "You have a restlessness about you. You need to be able to participate in what's around you in a way that lets you soak up knowledge. I think if you had to do the same thing over and over everyday, you'd slowly lose your mind."

"Bingo!" she announced. "I think you just hit the nail on the head."

Closing her eyes, Sara sighed heavily. "I don't know if I can do the job, though. I don't know if I'll be able to look at a victim and not _feel_ too much, you know? I know when I started, I had this optimism to help everyone, and it scares me that I may have lost that."

"We could always take it one step at a time, honey," Gil offered.

He suggested, "Why don't you go into work with me and see how you feel?"

"That would be nice," she said. "I could see the team while I'm there, too."

"When are you going in?" Sara asked.

"Whenever you want," Gil replied.

"How about tonight," she suggested, looking up at him. "I think maybe I want to see the lab again."


	14. Opportunities

A/N – Sorry for the long hiatus. I ended up writing another fic that just sucked the life out of me. Personally, I think it's my best (Dead Me – Living Me), but it took a lot to write it.

I'm back on this and another short fic for CSI.

**Please Review.**

Disclaimer: Huh?

* * *

Walking into the lab felt strange to Sara, as she walked through the front doors of the complex. Greg and Nick, walking past them, did a double-take and grinned.

"Hey, Grissom. Aren't you still scheduled off?" Nick asked.

"We just thought we'd stop by…" Gil said, trailing off.

"Actually," Sara interjected, "he asked me what I wanted to do regarding my job. I realized I wasn't sure what I'm capable of anymore. So, I asked to come into work with him."

"We thought she could hang out in the lab," Gil said. "This way she can see how she feels about being here."

Looking at him, Sara prompted, "Your office?"

By the time they got to Gil's office, his cell phone was ringing. Looking at the Caller ID, he noticed it was Brass.

"Jim?" he answered.

Sara listened to the one-sided conversation and saw Gil grin before asking, "How did you know I was back?"

Gil's laugh confirmed the rapid speed of the lab's grapevine.

When he hung up, Gil looked apologetically at Sara, trying to hide the boyish grin.

Smirking, she said, "Bugs."

Turning serious, he explained, "I don't need to go. I can stay here – no problem. I'll just have them log everything for me."

"No," Sara interrupted, smiling. "Go play with your bugs. I'll be fine."

Leaning up, she whispered in his ear, "Have fun."

With no more prompting, he was headed to the latest critter-infested crime scene.

Unfortunately, it took Sara less than thirty seconds to get bored, so she sat at his desk and picked up a folder. That's how Catherine found her ten minutes later.

"He's making you do his paperwork?" Catherine asked, appalled.

Laughing, Sara replied, "No. I just didn't have anything to do, and it was sitting there."

"Come with me," Catherine ordered, and led her to the garage.

"What have you got?" Sara asked as she walked around the older-model, open top Jeep.

"The body was found half hanging out the passenger door," Catherine explained. "The driver wasn't on scene. The vic owns the car."

"Prints?" Sara asked.

"The victim's prints are on the steering wheel and driver's door," Catherine said.

Walking around the vehicle, Sara stopped and squatted next to the running board on the passenger side.

"Blood droplets, not spatter," she murmured, and then stood and walked over to the driver's side. When she held out her hand, Catherine gave her a pair of latex gloves.

Opening the driver's door, she looked around the driver's side of the car's interior.

"Can I use your print dust?" Sara asked.

When she emerged a few minutes later, she walked past Catherine to the Print Lab.

"Mandy? Could you compare this print against Catherine's DB?"

A few minutes later, Mandy confirmed, "The print you gave me is not a match to the vic."

Sara made her way back to the garage, now garbed in a CSI jumpsuit, and lost in thought. She didn't even notice when she passed Ecklie in the hall.

Entering the garage, she asked Catherine, "Where was the car found?"

"On a dirt road, about half an hour east of town," Catherine responded.

Catherine watched as Sara focused, walking around the car, kneeling near the tires, inspecting them. Occasionally, Sara would ask for information regarding trace and tox results, but she hadn't yet asked for autopsy information. Catherine only supplied what was specifically asked for.

A couple of hours after Sara had begun her inspection, she stood on a ladder, looking down into the open vehicle, and smiled.

Getting down, she asked, "Catherine, did the vic die from blunt force trauma?"

"Yes, he did," she replied, surprised at the question.

Standing in front of Catherine, Sara smiled, then asked, "Was there dirt consistent with that at the location embedded in the wound?"

When Catherine nodded, Sara informed her, "If I'm right, it was an accident."

Quickly handing Catherine the clipboard of notes, Sara made her way out of the garage, laughing, while Catherine yelled, "Sara! Get back here!"

She was laughing so hard, Sara nearly ran right over the top of Nick. When she started to fall, Nick grabbed hold of her and pulled her upright.

"Whoa there, Sar," Nick said, grinning. "What's so funny?"

"Just helping Catherine with something," Sara smirked.

"Really?" Nick asked. "Do you happen to have a few minutes?"

Over six hours later, Gil finally made it back to the lab, where he laid out his containers of larva for testing. Stopping in his office, he found it empty. Frowning, he started to follow the sound of laughter until he reached the break room. Standing in the doorway, he smiled, watching Sara laugh.

She knew the moment he arrived, and turned towards him.

"How's the case? Get some good bugs?" she asked.

Her smile widened as he enthusiastically described the visible stages of bugs on the corpse. When he was done, he shook his head, grinned, and held his hand out to her.

Sheepishly, he pulled Sara to his feet and apologized, "I was halfway to the crime scene before I realized you were probably bored out of your mind."

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his waist and said, "Actually, I wasn't bored at all, was I guys?"

Laughter erupted from everyone in the room.

At Gil's puzzled look, Nick chuckled, "Sara gave us a set of fresh eyes, and helped us put a couple pieces together we hadn't considered."

Snorting, Catherine said, "She figured out mine was an accident in a couple hours. Even with her information, it still took me four."

"Sounds like you had fun, dear," Gil mumbled into Sara's hair, hugging her close to him.

Pulling back, she shrugged her shoulder and replied, "It beats doing your paperwork."

* * *

No one noticed Ecklie, as he walked away from the break room, where he'd paused, curious at the exchange, and continued towards his office.

* * *

Over the next week, Sara found herself in the lab, offering help to anyone who needed it – CSI or lab tech. She found herself enjoying being a set of fresh eyes or an extra pair of hands.

She was working on a particularly brutal rape case, when Catherine said, "Brass just brought in our suspect. Let's go talk to him."

Getting no response, Catherine turned back and saw the brunette frozen, her face gray.

Immediately stepping forward, Catherine grabbed Sara's hands, noting they'd turned ice cold.

"I can't do interviews," Sara breathed out.

"Take a couple of deep breaths," Catherine prompted, helping her lower her head. When the worst of the trembling had ceased, Catherine said, "Why don't you go sit down in Gil's office for a few minutes?"

Sara started to walk down the hall, then turned back to Catherine.

Her eyes and voice mournful, she shook her head, and softly told Catherine, "I don't know what I can do anymore. I'm sorry about that, Catherine."

In Gil's office, Sara sank down onto the couch, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back.

She heard the door open, the quietly close, felt him sit next to her, and grab her hand.

With a mirthless laugh, Sara said, "I freaked. I can't believe I freaked at the thought of interviewing a suspect."

"I feel like such an idiot," she mumbled, frowning.

"It's okay to react, Sara. It's okay to be afraid of all of this," Gil said.

On a long sigh, she replied, "Part of me knows I'm still working my way back and that it's going to take time. The other part of me is just feeling stupid. All Catherine said was we needed to go interview a suspect – I froze."

He picked up her hand and kissed her fingers, letting his breath linger there until she opened her eyes and looked at him.

"You've just spent a great deal of time ripping open wounds. You're still raw. I imagine it's like rubbing a little salt into those wounds."

Pulling her against him, he held her tight against his chest and said, "We talked a great deal about giving both of us time to heal. This is part of it."

Neither had heard the door open, or knew someone stood there, until Conrad Ecklie said, "I know you haven't reacted badly or frozen while handling evidence."

Pulling back from Gil, she replied, "Handling the evidence has actually been a lot of fun."

Smiling, she continued, "It's been fascinating to see the cases – process the evidence."

Ecklie shut the door and took a seat, facing Sara.

"Believe it or not, I _am_ aware of what goes on in the lab," he said wryly. "I've been watching you work this last week, even if you technically do not work here right now."

Her face flushing in embarrassment, Sara gave him a lopsided grin.

"I guess I should have cleared it with you first," she said.

Suddenly realizing the severity of Ecklie's implications, she turned to Gil, her face somber, and said, "I guess I'll be staying home tomorrow."

"Who said anything like that?" Ecklie asked, interrupting anything either Sara or Gil might have said.

Leaning forward, he handed her a sheet of paper.

As she read through it, Ecklie explained.

"During the past week, I watched quite a few cases get solved faster than normal. I also watched the method in which you worked, moving from lab to lab. Add into that, I am wanting to get someone into a position to help cold case detectives review old evidence – examine the way the evidence fits together," he said.

Ecklie continued, "I want to try out a new position – call it a floater CSI. It will be on an initial six month trial to see how effective it is. The primary job would be to work cold cases. However, if a current case comes up that is high priority, or could use a fresh set of eyes, you would work that, as well."

"You think I'd be a good fit for this?" Sara asked.

Smiling, he said, "Yes. However, for obvious reasons, you won't be able to work on any of Grissom's cases."

"What shift will I be working?" Sara asked, then continued before Ecklie could even answer. "It needs to be graveyard. I can't go back to not seeing anyone again, like on swing shift."

"You can work cold cases on graveyard with no problem. Keep in mind, if a hot case comes up on any other shift, you may get called in for that, as well," Ecklie explained. "However, I'm estimating eighty percent of your time will be working cold cases."

Scanning over the employment offer again, Sara quietly asked, "Will I have to go into the field, meet with the victims or stand in interviews?"

Exhaling long, Ecklie looked at Sara and said, "I can understand you are having a hard time right now. I won't push you to go beyond what you're capable of. I'll leave the option open, though. If you ever want to start stepping outside the lab itself, please let me know. Let some of the people around here help, so you don't have a problem meeting with a suspect or victim."

Standing, he said, "The fact is, I created this position for you. I think it'll be effective – it fits the way you work, and you're an asset to the lab and the team. The people around here trust you. The know how your mind words, and feel comfortable with you. If I were being honest, I'd also say it's a way to ensure Grissom doesn't leave, either."

Pausing, he looked at both of them, and then settled his gaze on Sara, "Just think about it and let me know."

His hand hadn't even touched the doorknob, when he heard Sara laughing, "I'll take it."

Conrad Ecklie smiled to himself as he walked the hall to his office. He just wasn't used to making someone's day.


	15. On the Job

A/N – Here we go again. My muse is back.

Please read and review.

Disclaimer: Please, God, don't make me say it again.

* * *

Sara began her new job as "Floating CSI" two weeks after accepting the position. Ecklie wanted her to start the next day, she offered a month. In the end, they settled on a couple of weeks, with Gil taking a couple of weeks off, as well.

They'd spent a few days out in San Francisco. Knowing she wasn't going to be able to get much time off in the near future, Sara thought it was important to introduce Gil to a few people.

Andy remembered him from the lecture, and amazingly, he'd held vague memories of her, as well. When pushed a little on the subject later that evening, he'd whispered, "She was with you. I noticed _everything_ about you at the seminar." She'd grinned in response.

While only spending one day with Andy, they spent several with her brother and his fiancé, Robin. Sara had been right. Gil and Mike had hit it off immediately. The particular unit Mike was teaching in his environmental science class had to do with bugs, and Gil couldn't help but offer up ideas. They'd ended up ensconced in Mike's home office, while Sara and Robin rolled their eyes and went shopping down at the wharf.

Eventually, Sara made the last introduction of the trip. The visit with her mother went pretty well. She'd had an 'episode' a couple days before, and was not at her most lucid. However, she seemed to understand Sara when she introduced Gil as her significant other. Before they left, Laura even smiled at him. The visit had only been an hour, but Sara felt it was necessary.

The rest of the time off was used to reconnect with Gil, settle herself to a more normal routine, and get caught up on sleep. Her life had been emotionally chaotic, and she needed a small buffer of time to prepare for the start of her new job.

Entering her office for the first time, she let out a small huff of a breath.

"Well," Gil offered, "at least it's bigger than a closet."

Turning to him, her look incredulous, she replied, "No it's not."

"It's nice and green, though," he offered, and she smiled.

"Yeah. It's really sweet. Who put all the plants in here?" Sara asked.

One wall, with a couple of extra-long shelves contained over half a dozen large green plants.

"Most are from the guys," he said.

"I know that one's from you," she grinned, pointing to the orchid on the steel desk.

"Well, with the closed-in space and all the greenery, you'll have plenty of oxygen," Gil offered, and she laughed.

Exhaling a long, slow breath, she looked at him and said, "Well, it looks like it's time for me to start. If the clock's right, then I have to be in Ecklie's office in fifteen minutes."

It took her a minute before she realized Gil was looking past her to something else on her desk.

"It looks like I've got a pile of stuff to go through in my in box," she sighed.

Hugging him, then standing back, she seriously said, "I better get to work."

Gil reached his hand into the mysterious bag he'd carried in from the car, and pulled out a _Scooby Doo_ lunch box, complete with thermos.

"Wow," was all Sara could get out, wondering how he'd known. "I always wanted one of these."

Smiling, he kissed her quickly, and left her office with a salute.

A couple of hours later, Catherine found her at her desk, and smirked.

"Paperwork?" she asked.

Sara sat back in her chair and replied, "Apparently, this is such an untried and untested concept, I have to complete my own job requirements documentation. Add into the mix that since I'm working with a different division within LVPD, I have a completely separate budget set for cold cases. That alone requires everything in triplicate."

"Maybe you won't roll your eyes so much when you hear Grissom and I moan about _our_ paperwork," Catherine laughed, and sat in the only extra chair in Sara's office.

Looking around, she said, "Well… it's _slightly_ better than a broom closet."

Grinning, she finished, "Not by much though. And I just came by to say hello and welcome back. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon."

With that, Catherine left, and Sara opened her first cold case.

Two weeks later, Nick found Sara in the break room eating lunch.

"Hey, Sara," Nick said. "Thanks for the help on that double homicide yesterday. We got it wrapped up about an hour after you left."

Pulling out his lunch from the fridge, he sat next to her, and laughed at her lunchbox.

"How are things on the cold case end?" he asked.

"Really interesting," Sara said, enthusiastically. "So far, we've closed three cases. Today, I was able to break the alibi of the primary suspect from a rape / murder from about five years ago. All the evidence had pointed to him, but the alibi threw it all off."

Sitting back, she smiled when she said, "He's being charged with it as we speak. Plus, his alibi is being charged with obstruction and anything else Harry and Eric can come up with."

"Harry and Eric?" Nick queried.

"They're the detectives I primarily work with for these cases," Sara explained. "It never occurred to me how hard their jobs might be – having to go back years later. There are stresses we don't ever see… that even Brass doesn't see. Imagine having to go back to a family that's angry nothing was ever found, or believes the cops didn't care the first time around. Add into that the age of the evidence and the crime. Their jobs are extremely frustrating."

"They're treating you okay?" Nick asked.

"They're great to work with," she replied. "They're very patient and understanding when it comes to the evidence. In all honesty, they're just all around good guys to work with."

"Sounds good," Nick said, grabbing the apple out of his lunch bag, and throwing the rest back into the refrigerator. "I gotta go. Talk to you later, Sar."

Nearly a month passed, and Sara found herself enjoying her job more and more everyday. She loved moving from one lab to the next in one moment, and working a cold case the next. The rhythm of it felt great.

When her cell phone rang, she saw Ecklie's ID pop up and frowned.

"Sara," she answered.

"I'd like to meet with you in fifteen minutes. Are you working anything time sensitive?" he asked.

Looking at the mountain of paperwork in front of her, she sighed, "No, not really. I'll be there."

When she hung up, she began to wonder just _why_ he wanted to see her.

He was reviewing some notes when she came in and took a seat facing him.

When he'd finished reading through the last of the file in front of him, he looked at her and frowned slightly.

When she frowned in response, and asked, "What's wrong?" he shook his head, surprised.

"Actually, nothing's wrong. I've just been reviewing the cases you've worked, and made a decision," he explained. "I'm hearing nothing but great things about you from Cold Case Division downtown, and I'm hearing equally complimentary things about you from the lab techs and CSI's here. I'm talking about all shifts. I know you've worked two cases with Days and one with Swing shift since you started this job."

Sitting back, Sara grinned.

"You should actually be very proud," Ecklie said. "You proved a new method of investigation."

"That's why I've decided to move it from a six month trial to a permanent position, effective immediately," he finished.

When she just stared at him, dumbfounded, he smiled and said, "You're dismissed."

As she started out his doorway, a huge grin broke across her face.

Pulling out her cell phone, Sara sent Gil a text message reading, "My office. Now."

It took him five minutes to get there. It took her two minutes to explain what Ecklie had just told her. It took them together nearly ten minutes to end the kiss, both of them wedged together in that tiny space between her desk and the shelves of plants.


	16. A Proper Proposal

A/N – Okay, the following is going to be fun… the engagement is on.

PLEASE R&R

Disclaimer: Do NOT make me say it again, or you go to bed an hour early tonight! Oh. You're not one of my kids.

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Chapter: A Proper Proposal

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The frosty breath of winter gave way to early spring. Since Sara had returned, she and Gil had not really talked about marriage, although they acted the part in private.

One day, eating lunch together alone in the break room, Gil brought up the subject, and Sara smiled at him. Once the topic was broached, they discussed a date. Their heads bent together, they decided on a late August wedding, quietly whispering to one another, until they heard someone approach the room, and they broke apart. Both grinning.

On a rare day off together, she found herself being dragged to a jewelry store. He watched her as they drove, noting that the closer they got to their destination, the more she frowned and sighed.

Pulling into the parking lot, he turned to her in his seat and asked, "What's wrong?" Suddenly nervous, it occurred to him that she didn't want to get married after all.

Watching his face turn pale, Sara said, "I definitely want to marry you. It's just…" and she trailed off.

"It's just what?" he gently asked.

Sighing, she smiled at him and explained, "I guess I'm not much different than every little girl that fantasizes about the man of her dreams proposing – bended knee, surprising her with the perfect ring that he's picked out – all of it."

"I know it's not realistic," she said, and laughed. "It's just hard to separate the dream from reality."

Picking up her hand, Gil Grissom said, "The ring. The wedding. They're not the important part of us. The vows we take, and the promises we make to one another that lead us into the rest of our lives are the important part. The rest is not nearly as important as getting to spend the rest of my life with you." He kissed the palm of her hand.

Her smile widening, she leaned over the console, kissed his cheek, and whispered, "I love you, too."

In the store, he kept picking out larger diamonds. She wanted something small. He would have argued more, but she picked up a small, marquis cut diamond and her smile softened as she looked at it then him. "It's just perfect," she whispered, watching the light play off the diamond.

"It's just what you want?" he asked, and received a teary-eyed nod.

"It even fits just right," she replied, laughing.

All the way home, Sara would hold her hand out, watch the play of the light as it danced across the diamond on her ring finger, and smile. When she looked at Gil, her smile would soften, and she'd run her hand across his knee and thigh. At times, they simply held hands, stealing glances.

They had barely walked in the door when Gil's cell phone rang.

"Yes, Catherine?" he answered. "It's my day off, and I have plans. You'll need to just bag it all and I'll go over it tomorrow."

Rolling his eyes, he watched Sara's smile widen and she walked into her embrace. She heard Catherine on the other end of the line ask what they were so busy doing that he couldn't handle coming in.

"If you must know, we just went and bought a ring," Gil replied, and promptly hung up on Catherine.

Leaning down, he kissed his soon-to-be wife.

The knock on the door ten minutes later, with the blond bursting through and demanding to see the ring was a surprise. Sara and Grissom sat on the couch, stunned as Catherine examined the ring on Sara's finger carefully.

"Catherine, it's a twenty minute drive from the lab to here," Sara finally said.

"I know," Catherine smirked back.

A couple of minutes after she arrived, Catherine said, "Don't worry about the bugs. I've got Nick handling them." She promptly left the two of them sitting on the couch, laughing.

Later that night, Gil drove them out to one of his favorite places – a small hill outside of Las Vegas. Parking the car up on the ridge, he got out and went around and held Sara's door open for her.

"It's a beautiful place to see the sky," he whispered into her ear. Leaning on the hood of the car, he pulled her to him – her back against his chest. Gil wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the other around her waist, and nuzzled the back of her neck.

Over the next half hour, he pointed out stars, and exclaimed when a shooting star flew across the sky. Sara moaned when he stood up and separated the two – the warmth of him gone – replaced by the cool spring air. Turning in his arms, she leaned up and kissed him, letting her lips linger over his as the kiss ended.

Gil's face became serious as he stepped back from her.

"I wanted to bring you here to propose," he said soberly. "I'll get down on my knee if that's what you want."

Shaking her head, tears misting her eyes, she responded, "That's okay. I don't need you on bended knee."

"I want to make a life with you," he said. "I want to spend every moment with you. You are my lover, but more importantly, you are my best friend."

Looking deeper into her eyes, he asked, "Will you marry me?"

Her face aching from the sheer smile, she wrapped her arms around his neck and said, "Yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" As stars winked across the sky, he held her, until they needed the privacy of their home – their bed – and each other.

The drive home was fast and furious. Laughing, touching, and holding the entire time. That night lay holding on, touching at all times, and smiling.

Two days later, Sara walked into Gil's office and closed the door.

Looking up, he noted the serious look on Sara's face. "What's wrong?"

"I can't take it anymore," she said. "The wedding plans are killing me. I'm starting to have panic attacks over it and the wedding is months and months away! There are so many decisions to be made. I have to find just the right dress. I need to get the invitations out…"

Sitting on his sofa, Sara lowered her head to her hands. "Why didn't we just elope," she lamented, then softly added, "I just want to be married already."

"Why don't we move the wedding up?" Gil asked.

"To when?" Sara questioned.

Gil pulled out a calendar and started looking at dates. Finally rotating the calendar for Sara to see, he pointed out a date just three weeks off. "How about that?" he asked.

Looking at the date proposed and then flipping back to the current date, she smiled. "Perfect."

"Tell me what I need to do," Gil said, as Sara rose from her seat, a smile plastered on her face. "Make sure to request at least three days off after the wedding."

Walking down the hall in a daze, she could do nothing but grin.

When Greg asked her what was making her smile, the smile in question grew, and she said, "Three weeks. Will you be my man of honor?"

She left Greg Sanders grinning like an idiot in the middle of the hall as she made her way to her office.

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Please hit the review button and let me know what you think.


	17. Fairytale

A/N – I hope you like this chapter. I'm calling it 'Fairytale' for a reason.

Please please please hit the review button at the bottom.

Disclaimer: I give up.

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Fairytale

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Between pulling three doubles, and working a case for day shift, Sara was tired. Sitting in the break room eating lunch, just a week and a half before the wedding, she pulled out her checklist and started going through what needed to be done. They already had a location planned. The community park they often walked to would be perfect, since they always found it peaceful there. The flowers and tables were arranged. Music would consist of a single violinist. The food was being catered – simple, yet delicate sandwiches and fresh salads. The invitations were out for their noon wedding.

Gil was taking care of the tuxedoes for himself and the boys, although he'd left Sara in charge of Catherine – his Best Person. Everyone from out of town would start arriving in the next few days, and Catherine had offered up rooms for them in which to stay. The only thing left to really take care of was the wedding dress, and Catherine's and Andy's dresses.

Laughing, she set the list down and rubbed her eyes.

"What's so funny?" Brass asked, sitting next to her.

"Our wedding party," she replied with a smile.

"It's unique," he said, grinning back.

"That's one way to describe it," Gil said from the doorway. "Catherine is my best man, and you and Warrick are my groomsmen. Greg is Sara's maid of honor, and Nick and Sara's friend Andy are her bridesmaids."

When Catherine walked in, the trio was laughing, and Sara had tears pouring out of her eyes.

"So," Catherine began, standing next to the brunette, "when are we going to shop for dresses?"

Sighing, Sara replied, "After shift?"

"Sounds good," Catherine agreed, and then left to process evidence.

At ten o'clock in the morning, Sara and Catherine found themselves in a bridal boutique examining dresses. Catherine would pull them out, Sara would try them on, and in the end she would reject each one.

"You never did tell me the color scheme you chose for the wedding," Catherine finally said. "We _should_ be looking at mine and Andy's dresses, as well… even if you can't seem to find your own dress."

Her cheeks staining pink a bit, Sara smiled and said, "Blue. I'll point out the color when I see it." She didn't tell Catherine she was looking for just the right shade to match his eyes. That little detail Sara would share only with Gil.

The two women left the boutique and found another one further down the strip. Stepping in, Sara noticed two strapless knee-length gowns with a simple cut in just the right shade.

"That's the color," she whispered, walking over and fingering the light, sheer material laying over the top of the silk.

Smiling, Catherine murmured, "Good taste," and pulled her size off the rack. Within moments, she returned, the dress flowing off of her, fitting to her frame. The silk sheath hung down over every curve, and the light, gauzy material made a sheer curtain over it. Around her shoulders lay a silk wrap. Looking at her, Sara smiled, and just said, "That's gorgeous."

Looking in the mirror, Catherine agreed.

With their purchase of the Catherine's and Andy's dresses in hand, and an appointment to have Andy's dress fitted when she arrived, they left the boutique and wandered further down the strip. They'd been keeping a good pace, until Sara suddenly stopped.

"Sara!" Catherine exclaimed. "That's a second hand store."

Ignoring the blond, Sara opened the door, and moved toward the item that had captured her attention. The dress hung on the back wall. She just couldn't seem to tear her eyes away. She'd only envisioned a calf-length simple dress. Something simple. However, this one lay all the way to the ground. There was no train to follow.

From the bottom edge of the quarter sleeve silk dress, delicate tendrils of vines and leaves snuck up in the palest green silk thread to about knee height. An overlay of sheer material lay snug against the bodice, making the white silk glisten. The sheer material became loose further down the dress. Towards the bottom, wisps of hummingbirds, bees, and butterflies were embroidered into the overlay, again pale and delicate. As she picked the dress off the wall, they seemed to dance and shimmer.

"Oh, Sara," Catherine said, putting her hand on the brunette's shoulder. "You have to try it on."

Catherine sighed when Sara emerged from the dressing room, wearing the gown and the matching elbow-length gloves with the same subtle patterns.

"It's beautiful. You look stunning."

As Sara looked her herself in the mirror, she moved her arms to her hair, and gathered it up. The image she saw made her smile, and she looked at the clerk, saying, "I'll take it."

Sara didn't want Gil to see the dress before the wedding, so she decided to hide it at Catherine's house.

"You're not going to tell me anything about it?" Gil inquired for the tenth time that night, as they sat in the living room watching TV.

Rolling her eyes, Sara leaned over and kissed him. "Nope."

"How are the tuxes coming?" she asked, hoping to divert her attention.

"Greg, Nick, Warrick, and Brass have all been fitted. Mike's tux will be fitted next week," he responded. That afternoon, they lay together, content in having preparations well underway.

Sara spent the next week relaxed. Her plans were all complete. One last detail – the cake – had been ordered.

Mike and Robin arrived four days before the wedding. He'd wanted to see where Sara worked, and meet her team. He didn't yet know he was going to be a tuxedo, because she hadn't wanted to ask him over the phone.

They were sitting in the break room, while Robin was off shopping, when Sara asked, "Will you walk me down the aisle?"

Smiling, he lifted her from her chair, pulled her into a tight hug and whispered, "It would be my honor."

Andy and Adam arrived two days before the wedding, their son in tow. That afternoon, prior to shift, Sara showed Andy the dress they'd found for her, and watched her friend 'ooh' and 'ahh' over it. After dinner, Sara headed into work, while her friends headed off to see some sites.

The only moment of panic came the day before the wedding. Sara had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of her wedding gift to Gil. It had been due the day before, and she'd spent over an hour on hold, waiting to find out exactly where it was located. When it arrived, she opened the box and peered inside.

"It's perfect," she whispered to herself and smiled, before carefully closing the wooden box. Looking at the clock, she realized she was going to be late for the rehearsal if she didn't get a move on.

When she arrived at the park, she noted everyone was there. Andy stood talking to the priest. Catherine was with Nick and Warrick, telling them a joke. Gil and Mike sat on a bench in an animated conversation. Robin strolled over to her, smiling.

"They're terrible, aren't they?" she laughed, pointing to her fiancée and Gil. Sara laughed in agreement.

They walked over to the priest, and Sara smiled.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and she responded, "Yes."

Clearing his throat, the priest called everyone over. For fifteen minutes, he went over where everyone would stand, the order in which people would walk down the aisle, and other details.

With the wedding happening so rapidly, Gil and Sara had opted for traditional vows, although she had asked that the word 'obey' be removed. He'd smirked and they'd playfully argued over it. Everyone laughed when Sara suggested if she said it, he had to say it too.

Before they left the park, Sara retrieved the wood box that had finally arrived.

"My wedding gift to you," she softly murmured, as she handed it to him.

Carefully opening the lid, he looked at her surprised. When he pulled the item from the box, he gasped. In his hand, encased in a protective layer, was a 1910 autographed Chicago Cubs baseball, with the names Tinkers, Evers, and Chance.

Reaching out, he grabbed Sara and kissed her.

"Thank you," he whispered. "It's perfect."

Gently laying the baseball back into its wooden box for safe-keeping, he watched as a car approached.

"I think your gift has just arrived," he said. A puzzled look on her face, Sara looked at her soon-to-be husband, and raised her brows.

"Remember when you described your brothers to me?" he asked, and she nodded. It wasn't until the young man stepped out of the car that she realized the implications of Gil's question. It was when she first clearly saw his face that she remembered. He hadn't changed much.

"His name is Keith," she laughed, and waited for the young man to approach them.

"Hello, Sister," he said, and found himself being hugged.

"I've missed you, Brother," she replied, tears rolling down her cheeks.

The two spent a good twenty minutes, oblivious to anyone and anything around them, as they talked over and to each other. To Sara, it felt like she'd seen him only yesterday. He told her about going home to drug-free parents a year after she'd left. He talked about studying to get his doctorate in music composition. They shared memories about playing together, living together – being a family. Eventually, the broke apart, and Sara made introductions.

It was getting dark, so they decided to move from the park, and get something to eat. They ended up at their traditional place. It took two booths, and a table, with Sara and Gil moving from place to place to talk with everyone. Everyone intermingled easily.

Later, as everyone departed to their respective places, Sara and Gil bade them a good night. The rest of the graveyard shift headed off to work, while her friends and brothers headed to their hotel rooms. Gil and Sara started to head home, only to be physically separated by Greg and Catherine, who had been hiding outside the door to the diner.

"No seeing the bride before the wedding," Greg laughed, hauling Sara off to his car.

As they left, Gil gave an annoyed "humph" and glared at Catherine.

"It's tradition!" she exclaimed.

"Yes, but did you also know it's tradition for the best man to marry the bride if the groom backs out?" he asked, his eyes narrowing, and grinning like a lunatic.

Catherine shivered a bit before replying, "You'd better not back out, then… I'm not going to marry her!"

Meanwhile, Greg checked Sara into her hotel room, with stern orders that while she could call and talk to Gil, she wasn't to see him until she emerged from the tent the next day.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Greg said as he left her there alone.

The next morning, Sara found herself awake early and ready for the events to happen. She had to meet the service people at the park at eight o'clock to show them where to set up. The bridal tent needed to be setup first.

Catherine and Andy arrived at nine o'clock with the dresses. The guys were not scheduled to arrive until eleven. It was nearly ten thirty before everything was setup and the women had an opportunity to get ready. At eleven, Catherine pinned up the last of her hair, before pulling out a box with a hair clip in it.

"This is my gift to you," she said, showing Sara the deep blue butterfly hairclip before placing it at the crown of curls.

"It's something new," she continued, smiling at the brunette. "And something blue."

"It's beautiful," Sara whispered, then stood and hugged Catherine. "Thank you."

From her make-up case, Andy pulled out a deep blue sapphire bracelet, with each gem the shape of a tiny butterfly."

"This is my mother's," she said, hugging her friend. "Something borrowed."

"Something old – Mike is walking me down the aisle," Sara said.

Tearing up, Sara reached for a handkerchief, while Catherine laughed, "God, it wouldn't help at all if we started crying _before_ the wedding."

With the women ready, Catherine signaled for the rest of the wedding party, minus Gil, to approach the tent.

While the others stood outside, Mike and Greg entered. Both rocked back on their heels.

"Wow," came their uniform reply, until Greg laughed, "He's going to swallow his tongue when he sees you."

The wedding party lined up just outside the tent, leaving Sara and Mike alone.

"Thank you for letting me do this," he said to his sister. "You have no idea what it means to me to be able to be a part of this."

Laying her arm through his, she smiled and listened to the beginnings of the violin.

Greg escorted Catherine down the aisle, leaving her to stand next to Gil. Next, came Nick and Warrick, walking side-by-side, until Nick peeled off to stand next to Greg, and Warrick next to Catherine. The last couple came down the aisle. Jim escorted Andy, and placed her next to Nick before joining Gil's side of the aisle.

General shuffling could be heard as the wedding march lightly played and people turned to watch the bride emerge.

Everyone said later her smile was radiant, her eyes pure and shining, as she walked to her husband. They said his blue eyes deepened and glazed, and he couldn't seem to stop grinning for hours after. As he saw her dress and the way curling tendrils slipped from her hair and fell, whispering against the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders, he stepped forward, held her hand, and drew her forward. He never took his eyes off of her.

It was their fairytale.

**The End.**

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A/N – I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know. Hit the review button.


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